Average
by 11092889
Summary: Because why the hell not? After all, life is a choice. Starts in NCIS series 3. It will contain spoilers, some minor some major. features a Harry working for the Muggles, who are unaware that he is a wizard. Pretty much Canon Harry until the end of book 7, big AU after that. Please read and enjoy, constructive criticism is always welcomed.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Some people are born average.

They're born, they grow up, they get married, have kids, grow old, and then they die. They're boring. They lead boring lives and they do the same boring thing day in and day out, their only excitement in life is the idea that, perhaps, they'll mix up their dinner choice one night of the week and have spaghetti rather than chicken. They work dull nine-to-five jobs, probably the same one for twenty or so years at time, they drive a boring car and they have a boring spouse. Why? Because it's easy, because it's simple… because it's safe, some people want safe, they _like _safe. And so they spend their time meandering through their life, going with the flow and taking the easy choices, passing up opportunities and chances because they think _'Is it worth the risk?' _And, ultimately, they decide no, it isn't worth the risk. So, when their time comes and they're old and grey, they end up looking back on their lives and thinking '_I wish I'd done this…' _or _'I should have done that…' _The average, safe, _boring _person will undoubtedly end up leaving this earth with regrets. Why? Because they were average, they were safe, they were boring.

Some people, however, are not born average.

These people are born, they grow up, and then the strangest thing happens. They _live,_ really live. They take chances, they experiment, they look and they leap, they grasp the world with both hands and they do what they want. These people seek out adventure and charge into the unknown, these people are the explorers, the pathfinders, and the trailblazers. These people are the risk takers and the joy riders. These are the people who, when they are laying on their deathbed, can look back on their lives and say with certainty _'I have lived a full life.'_

However, these people's lives aren't safe, they aren't easy, and the most definitely aren't boring. These are the people who gather scars and marks and think _'Just another colour in the painting that is my life'_. These are the people who wake up in the morning and think to themselves _'I'm going to do something stupidly dangerous today… because, why the fuck not?' _

And that's the distinction between the two groups.

The former will ask, why?

The latter will ask, why not?

At twenty-five, Harry potter could happily say that he was a part of the latter group. This might need some explanation.

You see, this change in Harry first manifested itself during the hunt for the Horcruxes when he was seventeen, though he wouldn't realise this for some time. The constant danger, the excitement, and the almost overwhelming fear of being on the run for a year had changed him. It had made him feel alive, truly alive for the first time ever. Now sure, some people would call this hell, and at the time so had Harry, most people couldn't handle the constant fear and the stress that it brought with it. Afterwards though, that's when Harry realised, with Voldemort dead and the magical world returning to normal, there was no thrill anymore, no fear or excitement. It had become boring.

For a while, Harry figured it was simply the fact that he was readjusting to normal life that was making the world look so dull and colourless. By the time he turned nineteen though, that's when he realised it, that's when harry discovered that the fear and the thrill, the danger and excitement had changed him. It wasn't stressful anymore, all that, it was something else entirely… it was _fun. _

The rush of it all, the fear and the danger, that's what made it worth it, worth it all. Harry came to the conclusion that he had changed for life, and you know what? He simply didn't give a toss.

Whilst everyone else started trying to put their lives back together, trying to fit back into their dull existence from before the war, Harry was out trying to discover new things, exciting things. This ended up leading him down some odd paths and into some strange places, and he wouldn't change it for the world. Ron and Hermione seemed to cling to each other in the hopes of discovering some form of normalcy, Harry didn't blame them, in truth he was happy for them, if that was what they wanted to do, then why not? It wasn't for him though.

Ginny seemed to want the same thing, only with him, and that was something that Harry no longer wanted. Now that, that had shocked everyone.

"_But Harry!" _they'd said _"you've always wanted to be 'normal'" _And sure, he had wanted to normal but that was then, this was now.

He'd shrugged and simply asked what normal was. Was it something people decided for themselves? Or was it just the social expectations placed upon a person?

If it was the former, then he considered himself quite normal for doing what he wanted, everyone else did. If it was the latter, well, he'd spent enough time trying to mould himself to the society's expectations, thank you very much!

Slowly but surely, he'd began to drift away from his friends, yeah he still kept in contact at least once a month, but by the time Harry turned twenty he was hardly what you'd call close with anyone. Sometimes this bothered him, he knew he should probably make more of an effort, but if they couldn't understand that this is what he wanted, then why should he?

That's when his quest for new and exciting things led him down his strangest path so far. Harry had applied for muggle university, probably one of the more shocking things that he'd done to date. Out of everyone, only Hermione understood this, or she thought she did. Hermione believed that Harry was finally thinking ahead in life and trying to develop some form of foot in each world, one in the magical and one in the muggle. That wasn't exactly true though. In reality, magic had somewhat lost its charm. For the last couple of years, it was new and exciting but now, now Harry had seen most of what it could do and was seeking something new. Sure, he still got a pleasant thrill when he mastered a new spell or cast a particularly challenging bit of magic, but it wasn't enough anymore. So, he figured he'd broaden his horizons, so to speak, and branch out into the muggle world. More than that though, he wanted a job. Harry didn't want your average nine-to-five though, he wanted something with adventure, and to get something like that in the muggle world, one either joined the armed forces or got a degree.

Harry did think about military life for a while but he came to the conclusion that, whilst an excellent career choice that provided both excitement and adventure, he wasn't really one for such a regimented lifestyle. That, and what people didn't seem to realise was, military life was seventy percent waiting around, twenty percent cleaning, and ten percent excitement. In the end, Harry decided against military life and set about finding a job with freedom.

The job in question pretty much popped up and punched him in the teeth about a month after successfully acquiring a 2:1 degree a Chichester university. Getting into the university had been quite simple, faking GCSE certificates and A-Levels proved quite simple and he quietly used dobby to slip them into the system. It had occurred to him that he could have simply faked a degree as well, but then where would the fun be? The GCSE's and A-levels were a means to an end, but there would be no fun if there wasn't a chance of failure. And failing his degree course was a very real possibility.

Two years of hard work later though and Harry was quite proud of himself, a month after that he was reeling from the job offer, a rather clandestine job offer at that.

Now, this is when life really got exciting for Harry Potter. You see, this job offer had come from the SIS, better known as MI6, stating that: Harry had impressed one of the covert recruiting agents that were buried in multiple universities across the country. Apparently, his dedication and drive, along with his noticeable craving for adventure had piqued the interest of the recruitment officer and his name had been forwarded to Vauxhall Cross, pending his Degree result. After that, Harry had been quite interested in the potential this offer held. A life of adventure and excitement, at least the illusion of freedom and the thrill of cloak and dagger work, by the time his final interview came about and the vetting process was complete Harry was practically chomping at the bit to get started.

He'd never looked back.

Now three years later, after exhaustive training, he'd been promoted to the special operations department and was now a fully operational intelligence officer. This is what led him to his current situation.

Sprinting down a dirt road in Palestine.

* * *

**A/N:** This Kinda just popped into my head so I thought I'd write it down. I'm quite interested in what sort of response it will garner and I'm also quite interested in what you readers think about Harry's magic. Should he use it? Should he focus on the muggle aspects of life? Should he simply hold magic in reserve for the truly hard things? these are all questions I'd like answers to from you guys. Your opinions count. Now, the general idea is that this will span the overall NCIS story arcs from season three onwards and the prologue is set just before the start of season three. As always, please read and review, your input is essential at this stage :)


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

When Harry first joined MI6, something was made very clear to him. He was not James bond, this was not 'the spy who loved me', and there was most certainly not pussy galore in his future. He wouldn't be getting super-mega-awesome spy gadgets, nor would he be given an Aston Martin that shot laser beams from its wing mirrors or anything else so ridiculous. He would, however, be given a service weapon and the right to purchase his own backup weapon, so long as it was a handgun. That was it though, everything else was mission specific. Need ten pounds of C-4? Did you requisition it before the op? No? Well, your shit out of luck sunshine, they'll be no air dropped 'care packages' full of munitions for you to scrounge up.

You want something? You plan your bloody op and you requisition the kit you need. He was told in very clear terms, the special operations branch is for the elite only, you can't even decide if you might have to blow open a door or a wall at some point then you may as well leave now.

The training was extensive though, if at any point he found he didn't have the kit needed for the job at hand, and it would happen at least once in his career, then he should be able to make it. The training covered all of this, from making IED's out of whatever he could find, to picking locks, to learning the main trade languages of the world. Through His three years in the Academy he was turned from a thrill seeking civvi-student, to a thrill seeking special operations agent of Her Majesty's Government.

Which is why it was somewhat embarrassing that he was currently being outrun by some half-starved goat farmer in rural Palestine, well the outskirts of Jericho to be precise. As the aforementioned half-starved goat farmer shot off the right, Harry drew his service pistol (a Sig-Sauer P229 chambered for .357 SIG) and kept after him, his boots pounding across the ground as the hard packed dirt soon became gravel and then would later turn into tarmac if he let the chase go on any further.

The goat farmer ducked down an alley way at almost full speed and Harry hurtled after him, catching sight of the tail end of his keffiyeh as he shot up a flight of mud brick steps and into a seemingly abandoned dwelling.

"Bollocks!" Harry whispered, furiously, as he slowed down and brought his pistol up, racking the slide as he went.

He quietly made his way up the crumbling steps towards the battered, plain wood plank door at the top. He stopped when he heard voices.

"Ziva, I've been made! There's a man outside chasing me!" That was the goat farmer. Harry wasn't too great with Hebrew but he knew it well enough to recognise it when he heard it. '_Interesting' _He thought to himself as he pressed himself against the wall, pistol still up and ready, should the door open. _'Why would a suspected Arabic terrorist be speaking Hebrew?'_

"What do you mean 'you've been made'!? You were followed? By who?" Another voice, angry and female this time, sounded through the door.

"I don't know who it is! He's been chasing me since he bungled our meeting at the farm. A foreigner, westerner by the looks of him."

"Did he see you come in?" The woman's voice was quiet and furtive now, though still obviously angry.

"I – I don't think so. I think I lost him on a turn, he wasn't there when I came up the steps."

'_Yes, I saw you, and I'm stood right outside you bloody idiot." _Harry thought to himself with a small smile. Time to find out what was going on; this was obviously not as simple as his brief had led him to believe.

With a deep breath, Harry stood back from the door and then viciously kicked it from its rusted hinges. The door flew inwards to the floor and Harry stepped through quickly, pistol raised and ready, zeroing in on the goat farmer.

"Get down on the ground!" He shouted, focused on the man he'd been chasing. That was a mistake.

Whilst the farmer had instantly dropped to the floor, the woman had sprung into action. Knocking his gun from his hand, the Woman delivered a powerful spin kick to the side of his head, a blow Harry was only just able to fend off.

'_Oh Merlin' _He thought as the woman advanced again, a leg whipping out in a brutal snap kick that landed on just above his left knee, forcing him halfway to the ground.

Harry blocked her follow up attack and drove his fist into her lower right ribs, impacting in a devastating liver shot that would make must men vomit.

The woman let out a loud growl of pain and drove her forehead into the bridge of his nose, soundly breaking it.

Harry's eyes watered and his nose stung like a bitch as he almost fell the rest of the way to the floor but he struggled up as the woman recovered and he moved in close to avoid any more powerful kicks, her hands shot out, going for his eyes but he batted them away and wrenched one of her wrists around, trying to turn her to an easier position to pin.

She was having none of it and sunk her teeth into his shoulder as he tried to flip her around. He grunted tried to pull her head away with his free hand but she broke free of his grip in his distraction and swiftly raised a knee into his groin.

This time Harry did drop to the floor, gasping for breath as he cradled his abused privates in one hand. The woman grabbed his other hand and twisted it behind his back as she knelt on him.

"Who are you!?" She whispered furiously into his ear.

"Ani lo medaber Ivrit, Ata medaber Anglit?" Harry said urgently as she twisted his writ just a little bit more. He needed to buy himself some time, maybe distract her.

"Fine!" She continued in English. "Who are you?"

"How about you let me up, and we can have a nice chat about it, eh?" He grunted from his position on the floor.

"Not a chance." She chuckled, and Harry felt her shift before something cold was pressed against the back of his head, a pistol. "How about we try again, who are you?" She demanded and heard her pull the hammer back.

'_She's got to be IDF or something, her English has a distinct Israeli accent and there's no way your average Jihadist irregular fights like that" _Harry thought fast. _'She was speaking Hebrew earlier as well. What the hell have I walked in on' _Harry sighed, _'This was supposed to be simple'_

"How about you, who are you?" He asked, half his face pressed against the filthy floor. She let off a round next to his ear.

"I'm asking the questions." She said in voice like silk over an anvil. "Answer my question or the next one goes through your shoulder." It was a cold statement of fact and Harry fully believe d that the next shot would, indeed, going through him rather than the floor.

'_Bollocks, I best be right about this.' _

"Potter, British SIS, and you are?"

Harry felt her weight leave his back and he was roughly pulled to his feet, the woman let go of his wrist but kept the gun pointed in his general direction, ready to snap to him if the need arose.

"MI6?" She asked, "I expected better from a British agent." She scoffed at him. "You were hardly any trouble."

Harry glared at her, she was right. Not only had his body taken a beating, but his ego had been rather dented by this little episode as well. He drew a little comfort from the fact that she was now slowly rubbing her ribs with a grimace, though the intense ache in his nether regions diminished that comfort by quite a bit.

"Mmhmm, anyway, who are you? IDF?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Mossad?" The woman nodded ever so slightly at that and slowly stuck out her hand.

'_Obviously not a staunch traditionalist Jew then' _Harry thought with a small smile as he took her hand, it was obviously well used to hard work, but deceptively soft.

"Ziva David, Mossad control officer." She said, as they shook.

"Harry Potter, SIS Intelligence officer." He let go of her hand and stared at her for a moment. "So, feel like telling me what's going on, especially with my suspected terrorist?" Harry asked as he nodded towards the goat farmer, who was still on the floor.

Ziva snorted. "Your 'suspected terrorist' is a Mossad… asset" She frowned slightly "He was placed by Mossad to try to infiltrate Hamas."

Harry looked at the goat farmer, who only just appeared to be getting over his fright and standing up. "Doesn't look like much… for a Mossad asset."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "He's an asset, not an agent. He's exactly what he appears to be, a goat farmer."

Harry nodded absently "And doesn't seem to speak a word of English by the looks of it." Indeed, the goat farmer was looking between the two of them in confusion. Intel was so very far off on this one.

"You're right, he doesn't." This time the frown was more pronounced. "So why did you chase him across a mile and a half of dirt track?"

Harry leant down to pick up his weapon and Officer David's own gun was pointed towards him in a flash. "Relax." He said, as he thumbed the Safety on and then slid it into his shoulder holster. "And I was chasing your boy because the intelligence, that Mossad probably purposely leaked, pointed towards this bloke having done a stint in Britain." Harry frowned.

"It's obviously not true, now that I've had contact with him, but you can understand that Her Majesty's Government doesn't take kindly to home-grown terrorists, especially after last month's foul up."

The Mossad agent nodded and slid her own gun into its holster on the small of her back. "Understandable, though now you've trashed my OP and you've disrupted the plans set in place by my superiors." She pursed her lips. "Mossad won't be happy about this." Now she glared. "I'm not happy about this."

Harry held his hands up on apology. "Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about this but mistakes happen." He scratched his jaw. "And they happen more often when agencies leak this sort of thing without informing other agencies."

Mossad didn't exactly have a reputation for playing well with others, even their 'allies'. Still, it was a mistake and not one that Harry felt any need to make again, from a professional stand point this was rather embarrassing.

Officer David ran one hand through her thick hair and then pinched the bridge of her nose "Oy vey." She shook her head. "I need to contact Mossad and tell them what happened." She glared at Harry. "Or who happened."

Harry nodded and looked around awkwardly. "I need to contact my handler as well." He sighed and went to stand by the sole window in the room. He pulled a sat phone from one of the pockets in his jacket and held down the connect button.

"Please verify." The electronic voice came across.

"One, one, zero, nine, two, eight, eight, nine." Harry spoke his eight number agency serial number and took the time to look around the room he was in as the signal was encrypted and then bounced through multiple satellites and towers.

The room was small, bare wood flooring that needed work and mud brick walls covered in lime wash, there was a threadbare rug by the doorway and Harry was stood by the only window. The window was closed and covered by a small net. It's amazing, the details you miss, when you're having your balls knocked up behind your ears.

There was a noise, almost like dial-up, as the phone signal was encrypted and then he was connected with his handler in MI6, one James Brass.

"What's your situation Agent?"

"Clusterfuck, the suspect was a Mossad plant." There was silence on the line for a moment and Harry noticed that Officer David was also talking to her superiors, in quiet Hebrew in the opposite corner. The goat farmer was stood between them, obviously not sure what to do.

"Say again, you said he was a Mossad plant?"

"Affirmative, the guy was – is – a Mossad 'asset'. He was supposedly planted to gain information on Hamas. Please advise."

"Wait." Harry nodded to himself. James was a good man, if a little odd. He made a good handler. "New orders from the top, you're coming home for debriefing. Proceed to Ben Gurion airport, terminal three. Your flight tomorrow leaves 14:00 local time."

"Wilco, out." Harry tucked the sat phone away and turned towards the centre of the room. Officer David was just finishing up her own conversation as well; she tucked her own phone away and turned to the goat farmer. A few short words and a nod later and he left.

She spoke to Harry next. "The op's been scuttled. I've been reassigned. Mossad is not happy with you."

Harry shrugged. "At this point it's for the higher-ups to sort out. I've been reca-" Harry was interrupted by shouts from outside and the sound of car doors thumping closed.

Harry quickly moved to the window and peeked out through the netting.

'_Shit. Four blokes, armed, heading for the back of the building." _

"Four blokes, packing type 56's, they're heading for the steps at the back." Harry drew his pistol and thumbed the safety off. "You sure your boy was on your side?" He asked.

"Like I said, he was an asset not an agent." Officer David said as she pulled the slide back on her own pistol and checked the chamber. "Do you have a car?"

Harry shook his head; he could hear loud footfalls as the armed men drew closer. "Too far away, you?"

She shook her head with a frown. "No." She moved to the side of the Doorway and nodded towards Harry.

Harry moved to the opposite side of the door and shot the Mossad agent a tight smile.

The pounding became louder as the men moved up the steps, the noise stopped for a moment, and then all hell broke loose.

Two men came in; waiting for the first man to go past Harry shot the second man in the knee as he entered, then again in the head. The first man spun around at the noise, just in time to catch a .357 Sig in face. It was over in seconds.

Officer David stepped out the door, pistol barking, as she shot the third man twice in the chest. The last man was stood at the bottom of the steps and he brought his rifle to bear as Ziva hit the deck and rapidly crawled back into the room, the sharp crack of multiple 7.62 rounds chasing her in.

She looked to Harry and quickly said. "One left, though we need to hurry, more will soon come." Harry nodded.

"I'll cover you, you shoot the bastard." He shouted as he leant out the door frame and fired four rapid shots. The last man dove for cover and Harry fired three more shots at the low wall he was ducked behind.

Just as the last armed man raised his head to take in the situation, he caught a round to his cheekbone courtesy of Ziva.

"Let's get out of here!" She spoke quickly to Harry as she half-ran down the steps. "We need to find a car."

Harry followed closely. _'Two rounds left.' _ "We can take theirs, they won't be needing it anymore, it should be around front." He said as he slowly stepped to the side of the mud brick house.

Officer David advanced down the side alley, pistol raised; as Harry followed her walking backwards, covering the direction they came.

She reached the end of the alley and pressed her left hand back, tapping Harry on the shoulder. He turned to her and nodded as he stepped into the empty open. He soon saw the vehicle the men had arrived in, a banged up technical with a dirty great big Russian KPV machine gun on the back. Harry let out a low whistle; if they'd just sprayed the building with that thing then the chances were he'd be a fine pâté right now.

Officer David slid into the driver seat and Harry hopped over the bonnet, getting into the front passenger seat.

"Idiots left key in the ignition. We'll have to ditch this before we hit Jerusalem though, where's your car?" She asked as Harry settled in his seat.

"About two miles south of here, follow the track until it meets a small farm, it's parked around the back of the main building.

Letting Ziva Drive was either the very worst, or very best, decision Harry had ever made.

On one hand, it was both _terrifying _and exhilarating. On the other hand, it was both terrifying and _exhilarating._

It was very fast however, and the two mile drive was over in a matter of moments.

As ziva pulled up behind the main farmhouse, Harry hopped out of the technical and fished his car keys out of a pocket on his cargo trousers.

He unlocked the doors on a discreet black coupé and slid into the driver's seat, whacking the air con up to high as he went. Officer David slid into the passenger seat and Harry quickly reversed out and drove onto the track, Heading west towards highway ninety.

Just after turning off of highway ninety and onto highway one, which led straight towards Tel Aviv past Jerusalem, A strange gurgling noise came from the passenger seat.

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked toward the Mossad agent currently sharing his car. "Hungry?" He asked.

"I haven't eaten since yesterday." Was the simple reply; it wasn't unheard of in this business, it wasn't even unusual.

"There's a bag of sunflower seeds and a chocolate bar in the glove compartment."

It was almost comical, the way the hardened Mossad agent leapt at the idea of food, whether it was the idea of sunflower seeds or chocolate Harry wasn't sure.

After a moment or two of rummaging she was holding the food in one hand and something else in the other.

"What on earth is this?" She asked, holding up a heavy looking revolver. "Where did you get this antique?" There was definitely laughter in her voice and Harry frowned, looking towards her.

"Oi! Don't knock the classics." He said as he took a hand off of the wheel to grab the gun from her. "This here is a Webley mark six, four fifty-five revolver, it'll kill someone just as well as my SIG and it'll do it with style and panache as well." Harry placed the gun on the dashboard.

Ziva held her hands up in apology. "I'm sorry; I will refrain from insulting your antiques from now on."

Harry snorted. "It's not an antique; it's a precision engineered, highly reliable, sexy looking bringer of death."

"It's an antique." She deadpanned.

Harry merely shook his head. They were now about twenty miles away from Jerusalem and about fifty miles away from Tel Aviv.

"Where am I taking you anyway?" Harry asked as the needle drifted past sixty.

"Tel Aviv. I need to report back and you owe me for wrecking my op." Harry nodded absently.

"I was heading to Tel Aviv anyway. I've been recalled to London and I've got a flight to catch tomorrow."

Ziva nodded as she quietly munched on her sunflower seeds. "You handled yourself well back there. After our tussle I was expecting you to be dead weight."

Harry shot her an odd look. "Er, thanks I guess. I have to admit, you gave me quite a surprise, I underestimated you and I got my arse handed to me because of it. I won't be making that mistake again."

She made a small noise of agreement and eagerly set about devouring the rest of the sunflower seeds.

The rest of the journey passed without comment and was over within an hour and a half.

"Pull over here." Ziva said as they passed a falafel stand on the corner Dubnov Street, across from Cameri theatre.

Harry swung into the car park on the corner and killed the engine. Ziva opened the door and made to get out. Harry took a leap.

"Officer David, wait." She stopped, looking at him curiously as he scribbled something on a piece of paper.

"That's my work number, if you ever need help." Ziva seemed to be trying quite hard not to roll her eyes. Harry smiled.

"I'm good in a fight, but you're excellent, so this isn't an offer to help you kick down doors. I am, however, a bloody brilliant intelligence officer. In this line of work it's important to know people. Someone in MI6 is a good someone to know, we practically wrote the book on this sort of thing. Besides, like you said, I owe you one."

Ziva took the note and slipped it into a pocket as she stepped out of the car. "Thank you Officer Potter." She said with a nod.

"No problem Officer David, you take care now." Harry said with a grin; and with a wink, he leant over, closed the door, and sped off.

'_Now, I'm sure there's a hotel around here somewhere…'_

* * *

**A/N: **Well, as you can see, It's been a while and i'm out of practice. Hopefully my writing will improve once I get back into the swing of things. Now, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed :) Many thanks guys, I really enjoy reading your thoughts and ideas keep 'em coming. :) As always, please read and review.


	3. Chapter 2

**Average: Chapter 2**

Harry ended up staying in a hotel just around the corner from where he'd dropped Ziva off. Interesting woman she was, if Harry had to guess he'd say she was in her early twenties, though she had old eyes. It was if she'd seen things, and probably done things, that had aged her prematurely, not all that surprising in a Mossad agent really.

He'd left the hotel the morning after, and after driving to Ben Gurion airport, Harry had stripped his car, scrubbed it down, and left it in the long stay car park. It would be covertly picked up once he'd left the country. The flight was uneventful and was actually quite boring. Four hours and forty-five minutes later, Harry had his boots back on British soil and had headed towards his agency funded apartment to freshen up. One of the few perks of the job was the free housing, not that it saw much use with Harry flying off to do something or other every few weeks. After a quick shower, Harry had slipped into a charcoal suit and walked the short distance to Vauxhall Cross.

The debrief had gone much the way that Harry had suspected it would. His training officer, and now direct superior, had torn into him about being a hopeless waste of resources and then, in the same breath, derided Mossad for lacking the most basic principles of courtesy in the intelligence world, all before congratulating Harry on doing a good job with what he had. Very odd man was Harry's old training officer.

One good thing to come out of it all though, was a nice new toy. Despite the insistence that MI6 agents would not be getting 'super-secret-mega-awesome spy gadgets' Harry did occasionally get a new toy to play with, this one happened to be a new Crypto phone. It functioned almost exactly like the commercial unit, except that the techies in the lower reaches of Vauxhall Cross had beefed up the encryption by a quite a fair amount. Also, unlike the civilian model, this phone came pre-loaded with the direct line to Harry's MI6 handler.

After all was said and done, Harry had been given two days leave to as he wished before reporting back to the office. He'd gone sky diving for hell of it.

Now, Harry was sat inside his cubicle on the fourth floor of Vauxhall Cross. Life at MI6 was exciting and often dangerous, but like everything else in life, it had its ups and downs. When not on assignment, Harry worked normal office hours, with a lunch break at twelve that he often spent at the Black Dog pub nearby.

Late two thousand and five turned out to be pretty slow in the intelligence world. Mid-year was a rush and bustle of activity that had Harry flying all over the world almost every week, tracking down suspected terrorists and gathering information on anything and everything he could get his hands on, But by November things had slowed down again, relatively speaking of course, The cloak and dagger world of MI6 never stopped after all. Something was always happening; some plot unfurling, some devious plan about to be enacted, the world was a busy place, especially if you knew where to look.

Now though, now the rush was over. MI6 had enough agents that they could 'take turns' as it were, rather than the near constant shifts of previous months, Harry was now on a rotation of sorts.

This left Harry with very little to do most days and usually led him to mindlessly page through information packets on the MI6 mainframe, or simply sit in his cubicle and throw balled up pieces of paper at the bin. Today he was doing the latter. There were two or three bits of scrunched up paper littering the floor where he'd missed but the bin itself was almost overflowing, he'd have to empty it soon and try again.

Just as Harry was lining up another his desk phone rang, glad for the temporary respite from the boredom, Harry eagerly picked up the phone.

"Potter." Came the voice of James Brass. "There's a woman on line two asking for you. What have you been told about giving this number to random birds you meet at the pub?" James sounded quite angry.

Harry rolled his eyes. It happened once and now, every time someone of the female persuasion called asking for him, James assumed that Harry was committing a security breach in an effort to get laid. Harry sighed. "What's her name?"

"David." Harry was surprised, he honestly thought the Mossad agent had simply burnt his number and he'd never hear from her again.

"She's not some random bird James, she's Mossad. Put her through." James merely grunted but complied.

The line was quiet for a moment before Officer David's lightly accented voice filtered through. "Potter?"

"Speaking. I didn't think I'd hear from you ever again to be honest. So, what can I do for you?" Harry asked as he leant back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk.

"You said it's good to know people in this business, so I'm asking for a favour." Harry perked up at this, it could be interesting.

"Okay, shoot."

"What? Why?" She sounded horribly confused. Harry chuckled.

"It means go ahead and ask."

"Why can't you just say that then?" She sounded irritated, though in general rather than at him. "I need you to get information on someone, two someones actually."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "And you can't do this yourself?"

"No. I'm currently working as the Mossad - NCIS liaison officer in Washington DC." She was definitely irritated.

Harry's brows rose even further, that's just... Odd.

"So, can you do it?" She asked. Harry thought for a moment.

"I should be able to, I'll call you back in" He looked at the clock, 15:45; it'd be about quarter to eleven in DC right now. "Half an hour, I'll have to talk to some people."

"Okay, I'll be waiting; the people are Jean-Paul Rainier and Sophie Rainier." The line went dead.

'Well, that was surprising.' Harry thought to himself, as he hung up the phone. He stood up an quickly left his cubicle, heading for the floor above and, more specifically James' work station.

Unlike intelligence officers, handlers work in a large open room, not unlike a call centre, and are assigned two or three agents to supervise, though only one active agent at a time. From his earlier call, Harry could safely assume that James wasn't currently overseeing anyone.

Harry walked down the hall and stepped into the lift as it arrived, pressing the button for the fifth floor, he leaned against the back of the lift and waited. Harry stepped out onto the fifth floor as the doors opened, two corridors later and he was walking up to James workstation.

James was a tall man, with narrow shoulders and thick glasses perched on his thin nose. You wouldn't be able to tell that he had a mean left hook just by looking at him. James was sat at his workstation, rapidly typing away on some report or other as Harry walked up.

"James, I need a quick word." Harry started, as he leant against his handlers work station.

James quirked an eyebrow. "This about the bird on the phone?" He asked as he pushed away from the desk and stood up.

Harry nodded.

"Right then, come one, I need a drink." James started to walk away from his station and into the hallway. He stopped by a vending machine just outside.

"So, what do you need to talk about?" He asked Harry as he fed some change into the coin slot.

"I need information on some people." Harry said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

James fished a cherry coke out if the machine and turned to face Harry, cracking the top of the can as he did. "Is this an official request from Mossad?"

"No, more like a sideways request from the yanks if anything." Harry replied.

"Eh? How'd you figure that?" Asked James, as he leant against the vending machine.

"The Mossad agent that contacted me is currently working in some ridiculous capacity for the NCIS out of the DC office."

James gave Harry a funny look. "Look mate, I know it sounds like a wind up but i reckon she really has gotten herself landed in some screwy position as the Mossad-NCIS liaison agent."

James started to walk back to his workstation, Harry followed. "You know that position doesn't exist, right Harry?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know that it didn't exist. Now though? I reckon they just made it up." James nodded.

"So what? You want to release data to an American agency that didn't really ask for it but may or may not have asked through a Mossad agent?" James shook his head.

"That's not how it works mate, you know that. I can't just give you Intel as if I was sharing my ciggys. Besides, you know how other agencies act. They want something then they come and ask for it, we don't just hand it out."

Harry blew his cheeks out. "I know, but could you at least send it up the line?"

James shook his head. "Fine, but don't be surprised when they tell to bugger yourself."

James sat down and started clicking away. "Right, who am I looking for?"

Harry grinned. "Jean-Paul and Sophie Rainier." A few more clicks later and James spoke.

"Right, I've found the files you're after and I've sent an access request along with your reason up the chain. Just gotta wait now mate." Harry patted James shoulder.

"Thanks man."

The answer to the request came swiftly, James desk phone began to ring and he quickly picked up the hand set.

Harry sat and watched. "Hello, yes sir, no I understand sir, of course not, no, yes sir, are you sure that's wise sir? Well of course I think he can, no, yes, of course I will He's my bloody agent! Yes sir, okay, all right, yes of course, okay, good bye."

Harry looked at his handler, eyebrows raised. "That sounded like it was fun."

"Shut up Potter, I don't enjoy having my arse chewed out." James ran his fingers through his hair. "Good news is, you can have your information. You've been cleared for both dossiers." James gave him a long look. "However, in exchange for that, you're having your desk rotation cut off."

_'Brilliant'_ Harry thought. _'I was going mad stuck here anyway'_

"You've got a new assignment, you're going to take this data to whoever asked for it and then you're going to hang about." Harry raised his eyebrows.

James looked at him hard. "I assume that the Miss David that contacted you earlier is the same Miss David that you met in the Middle East?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, same girl. Why?"

"Because mate, that girl is your new assignment. She happens to be the daughter of the deputy director of Mossad, one Eli David."

'Part of the job, I suppose' Harry mused.

"So, I'm going to stick around and do some digging?" He asked. James nodded his head.

"Pretty much, it's an extended assignment, they don't want you stepping on too many toes, so no surveillance and no bugging the place but they do want you to find out what's going on. Mainly they want to know more about David Snr, but anything to do with Miss David's assignment is fair game as well."

Harry nodded; it was all part of the job. Extended assignment was basically the professional way to say 'it'll take as long as it takes. As to the interest in Eli David, well, that was hardly surprising, intelligence agencies keep tabs on each other all the, some are just better at it than others.

"When do I leave?" Harry asked.

"You're on the non-stop overnight flight from Heathrow to Dulles international tonight. It leaves at 19:00"

Harry nodded as he checked his watch, 16:05. "All right then, I'll sort out my cubicle and swing by my flat to pick up some stuff. I'll keep you updated."

James nodded as he turned back to his screen. "Take care mate." Harry headed back to his cubicle, once he was sat down; he picked up his office phone handset and dialled the phone Iva had called from earlier.

"Agent David, NCIS." Harry chuckled.

"You sound like a secretary Officer David." Harry said.

"Potter!" She sounded surprised. "Did you find anything?" She asked.

Harry smirked; the fact that she couldn't see this was completely lost on him. "Of course I did, you'll have it by about nine thirty local time."

"Why so long?" She sounded confused.

"Because I'm dropping it off myself, I've got some stuff to do state side so the data you requested is being sent with me."

"Okay." The word was drawn out and she sounded suspicious.

"Relax." Harry chuckled. "It's nothing bad. You'll probably see me around NCIS quite a bit though. I'll be assessing various agencies security protocols." He lied through his teeth, saying the first plausible thing that came to mind.

"Hmm." She hummed in acknowledgement. "I see."

"Anyway." Harry began, changing the subject. "Would you mind picking me up from the airport?"

"Of course, will you have the data available when you land?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, David. And, I'll give it to you straight off the plane in exchange for a lift, and perhaps your settee."

"You want my couch?" Poor girl seemed horribly confused. Harry smiled to himself.

"No, I would like to sleep on your settee after my long plane journey so that I can sort out accommodation in the morning."

"Oh, of course. Yes, that would be fine."

"Great, have you got a number I can contact you at when I land?"

Ziva rattled off her Mobile number and then hung up with the promise of a lift. Harry shut down his work PC and emptied his bin before taking his suit jacket from the peg by the 'door' of his cubicle.

With a last look around, Harry was happy that everything was in order. He left his cubicle and set out on his way home. Twenty minutes later and he was entering his flat. He headed to his bedroom and brought down a suitcase from the top of his wardrobe. Harry quickly filled it with enough clothes to last a week, he could get more whilst he was there and he still wasn't sure how long he'd be state side anyway. Harry grabbed his Webley and tossed it into the suitcase along with his clothes.

After he was done packing, Harry had a quick shower and a small dinner before getting dressed again and heading for the airport.

At half past six Harry was walking up to the check-in counter, tickets in one hand (picked up from a drop-box) and his suitcase in the other.

The woman behind the counter gave him a courtesy smile, inherent in her industry.

"Hold luggage sir?" She asked in that god-awful 'secretary' voice.

"Just this please." Harry said with a fake smile of his own as he hefted his bag onto the dropped counter and pulled his SIS identification. He put both his ticket and the ID on the raised counter.

She nervously eyed the ID for a moment before nodding. She attached the tags to his suitcase and stamped a large DNT on the side ensuring it wouldn't be tampered with by customs. Harry offered her a winning smile and went to wait for boarding.

Some eight hours later and Harry was slowly stepping out into one of the concourses of Dulles international, running a hand through his mussed up hair. He pulled his crypto phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and sent Ziva a quick text.

I've just landed.

Where are you?

- Potter

The answer came fast.

Trying to find something

Edible in the 'chipotle grill'

outside.

- David

Harry hefted his suitcase and headed towards the the place Ziva mentioned. It didn't take too long to find it, or the irritated looking Israeli stood outside glaring at the menu.

Harry placed his suitcase at his feet and chuckled at her. "You look as if the place has mortally offended you."

Ziva spun around and gave him a short nod when she saw him. "Potter."

"So, I take it you didn't find anything?" He asked.

She shook her head, long hair swishing around. "I had to leave." She grimaced. "The smell was getting to me."

Harry nodded; he wasn't too fond of fast food places either. "Do they do take away tea in there?" He asked.

Ziva shrugged. "It was on the board but i don't know what it's like." Harry nodded and squared his shoulders, only one way to find out.

A few minutes later Harry came out, giving a rather grim look at his take-away cup.

"It's grey... I'm not sure how I feel about this." He was eyeing the cup suspiciously. Ziva was looking at him with an amused smile.

Harry took a small, experimental, sip. After a moment his face froze and he slowly spat the drink back into the cup before reaching out and dropping it into a bin. Outwardly his face hadn't changed, it seemed to be stuck in an expression of complete indifference, though Ziva could see he was a shade or so paler.

"That wasn't tea..." He said slowly. "That was piss."

Ziva let out small laugh and started to lead him towards the car park. "I'm sure it wasn't actual piss."

Harry gave her a hard look. "Whatever it was should be a crime." He said as he followed her, suitcase in hand. After a short time they came upon Ziva's car, a cherry red Mini. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You drive a Mini?" He asked with a small laugh.

"Yes." She said, somewhat defensively. "It's small, fast, reliable, handles well, and corners well at speed."

Harry raised his hands. "I'm just saying that it isn't what I thought you'd be driving."

Ziva unlocked the doors and Harry put his suitcase in the boot before moving towards the passenger seat. "What did you think I'd be driving?" She asked with a slight edge.

"A tank." Was Harry's dry response.

Ziva just huffed and slid into the driver's seat. "My apartment is about forty-five minutes away. Do you have the data?" She asked as she drove out of her parking spot. Harry nodded and patted his inner jacket pocket.

"Yeah, right here. You got a secure machine at your flat?" Harry asked

Ziva nodded absently as she turned onto the main road. "Yes."

"Good. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to see about catching a nap." Ziva didn't reply and Harry closed his eyes, leaning back in the seat.

Harry was woken later by a gentle shake to his shoulder.

"Potter, wake up. We're here." Harry looked blearily towards the voice and nodded slowly, running a hand over his tired face. He heard the driver's side door open and

Harry quickly followed out the passenger door, grabbing his suitcase from the boot as he went. Ziva locked the car and led the way towards her flat, unlocking the door and slipping in. Harry followed her in, closing the door behind him with his foot.

"I'll get the computer, you wait here." Ziva said as she walked down a short corridor and went into, what Harry assumed to be, her bedroom.

Harry looked around the room he'd been left in. It was obviously the living room, though he could see the kitchen through a half wall to side. The room was tastefully decorated in warm colours; with a throw over the centre of the settee and a small rug in front of it beneath a small coffee table, there was a floor lamp to the side of the settee, and there was a half read book left on the coffee table 'Guns, Germs and Steel' interesting.

Though it was tastefully decorated, and obviously designed to be comfortable, Harry could see the effect of having a spy living here. The front door had a small motion detector at the base and both the lock and the hinges had been replaced with heavier models, the large bay window was covered by thick heavy curtains, and each door frame had a small red light above them. At a guess, Harry would say that they were some form of radio scrambler, designed to prevent eavesdropping, though he couldn't be sure without a closer look.

As Harry was taking the apartment in, Ziva headed back into the room - a heavy duty military laptop in her hands.

She set it down on the coffee table, flipping the top and booting it up as she sat on the settee. Harry fished the small USB drive containing the Rainier files out of his pocket and wordlessly handed it to Ziva.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, why did you want these files?" Harry asked as he settled into the settee next to Mossad Officer.

Ziva shrugged. "The Rainiers were found dead this morning." Harry's eyebrows shot up and Ziva continued. "After digging around, the NCIS team discovered that they were contract assassins with reservations at the same hotel that's hosting the USMC birthday party on the tenth."

Harry nodded, it was now the eighth, for another hour or so at least.

"The NCIS team wants to place people in the hotel in place of the Rainiers to find out what's going on. I thought it best that we know as much about them as possible." Ziva plugged the USB drive into the laptop.

"I thought, because they were commonwealth citizens, that MI6 would have the most information on them, besides their country of birth." Ziva nodded at Harry. "And since I know someone in MI6 and I don't know anyone in Canadian intelligence, I came to you."

Harry hummed softly and leant his head back in the settee. "Makes sense, I'm glad you came to me." He shot her a grin. "Gave me something to do, I've been stuck behind a desk for the last week."

"So, who do you think they'll send in to take the Rainier's place?" Harry asked, trying to make conversation as Ziva looked through the files.

"I do not know." She answered quietly, focused on the laptop. "I assume they have people for this sort of thing."

Harry shook his head. "NCIS is a small agency; I doubt they have dedicated infiltration specialists."

"In that case, I would say me. It would not be the first time I've done this sort of thing. Though I do not know who would take Jean-Paul's place." She looked at Harry thoughtfully for a moment. "If I were in charge, I would send you in."

"Me?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes, it is part of your job after all. And MI6 is usually very good at its job, as you said, they practically wrote the book."

Harry chuckled. "Still, I doubt they'd let a foreign agent with no tie to an American agency participate so actively in an on-going operation. At least they wouldn't take kindly to it."

Ziva frowned. "This is true; they did not trust me to begin with."

Harry shrugged. "That's to be expected, our line of work doesn't exactly engender trust."

Ziva nodded. "Also true. It will be decided tomorrow." She looked at the USB drive. "I assume I can take this to NCIS with me?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, but where that goes, I go. Can't have confidential files falling into the wrong hands and all that."

Ziva nodded. "I will bring in a blanket; the bathroom is down the Hall. I'm going to bed."

"Okay." Harry stood up and kicked off his shoes before going to his suitcase as Ziva headed off to her bedroom.

He pulled out a pair of loose fitting jogging bottoms and nodded his thanks to Ziva when she dropped of the blanket before heading back to her room.

Harry stripped off his suit, pulled on the joggers and flopped down on Ziva's settee; he pulled the blanket over himself and was soon asleep.

The next morning dawned bright and early. Harry was woken by the sound of Ziva coming out of the bathroom. He looked at his watch, 05:30, and sat up slowly. He saw Ziva padding into the kitchen area, hair wet and wearing a loose grey T-shirt and a pair of black panties. Harry stood up and rearranged the settee into order before folding the blanket neatly.

He walked into the kitchen area, slowly scratching his chest as he went. Ziva had the kettle on and was waiting for it to boil. She nodded her greeting and spoke. "I have coffee or tea, if you prefer." Harry smiled in gratitude as she handed him a china mug.

"Thanks." Harry said as he dropped a tea bag into the empty cup and waited for the water to boil. Ziva added milk and a spoon of granulated coffee to her own cup. The kettle pinged and Ziva filled her cup before handing the Kettle to Harry.

Harry filled his cup three-quarters of the way up and then left the tea to steep.

"What are you doing?" Ziva asked as she took a sip of her sweetened coffee.

"Hmm?"

She nodded at his cup. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm letting my tea steep until it's at the strength I like." Harry answered. Three minutes later Harry took the tea bag out and gave the tea a quick stir before adding a splash of milk and stirring again. He forewent sugar.

He let out a small noise of satisfaction as he took a sip. "Oh, that's good." Ziva looked on, amused.

Finishing his tea, Harry washed out his cup and then went to get; a towel, his toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner from his suitcase.

He slipped into the bathroom and jumped into the shower; Harry washed quickly and left the conditioner in his hair as he got out to brush his teeth. Once he was finished, he rinsed the conditioner out, wrapped a towel around his waist and left the bathroom, joggers in one hand, and toiletries in the other.

He could hear rummaging from Ziva's room and assumed she was getting dressed. Dropping his toiletries and his joggers back into his case, Harry took out a shirt, underwear, and trousers before heading back to the bathroom to get changed.

When he exited the bathroom, Harry set about attaching his shoulder holster, putting on his tie, and putting on his jacket.

Ziva came back into the room wearing a blue vest, an unbuttoned white blouse and some olive cargo trousers. Harry was adjusting his tie.

"I usually get breakfast on the way to the office." She said as she picked up her boots and set about putting them on.

"Okay." Harry said as he slipped on his brogues, kneeling down to lace them up.

Ziva led the way out of the apartment with Harry following, suitcase in hand.

The drive to the NCIS office was uneventful, besides the stop to pick up a breakfast wrap each. Ziva had hummus, lettuce, sliced olives, and shredded chicken. Harry had shredded beef and barbecue sauce.

Upon entering the NCIS offices, Ziva led Harry to a lift, after pinning a visitor badge to his lapel, and then into an open area, loosely separated by cubicle walls.

"This is the 'bullpen'." She said as she moved to, what must be, her desk. "Gibbs will be here soon, the team leader, and Tony and McGee."

Harry nodded as he sat on the end of Ziva's desk. "I should let the director know I'm here soon. Professional courtesy and all that, I'd want to know if a foreign agent was hanging about in my building." Ziva nodded as she booted up her work PC.

"I'll bring the files back when I finish up with the director." Harry said, patting his jacket pocket as he stood up and made his way towards the stair at the side of the room.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he turned down a corridor and found a desk with a young woman sat behind it to the side of a large door.

"Hello." He said with a winning smile. "I'm looking for the director, could you help me?"

The woman frowned at him. "Who are you? Do you have an appointment?" She asked him.

Harry pulled out his SIS identification and handed it to the woman. "It's more of a courtesy call than anything else really." He said, still smiling.

The woman looked over his credentials for a moment before chewing on her lip slightly. "I'm afraid the director isn't in yet" she said, handing him back hi ID.

"That's okay, I can wait." The woman frowned slightly.

"Have you got a security escort?" She asked.

"Yes, I'm sure agent David can keep me from any mischief." Harry said with a wink as he left the way he came.

Harry trotted down the stairs back to the bullpen and strode over to Ziva's desk; she looked up curiously as he approached. "The director isn't in yet, so I told her secretary that you'd keep me from mischief."

Ziva raised an eyebrow and Harry handed the USB drive over. "You may as well keep hold of this for now." He said as he perched himself on the edge of her desk.

Harry looked about the bull pen as Ziva settled in to do paperwork of some sort or another. If you looked past the orange paint job, it was actually a pleasant enough space. With the large windows and the amount of floor space available the room looked much larger than it was. The desks and furniture was the average government office fare but they fit along with everything else. Harry was distracted from his musings by the arrival of voices from the direction of the lift.

"And that, Mcgeek, is why you won't ever get laid." Came a masculine voice.

"You realize that have actually had sex, right Tony?" The second voice was a cross between annoyed and exasperated, as if this was a familiar topic.

"Have you though McGee, Have you? - wait, who are you?" The end was directed at Harry, who could now see that the first voice belonged to an athletic looking man of about six foot with well styled hair.

The second man was slightly shorter and narrower in the shoulder, with a soft chin and a round face. Both were holding take-away coffee.

Harry stood from the desk and stuck his hand out towards the first man. "Harry potter, I'm Ziva's friend."

The man took his hand cautiously, giving him an odd look. "Anthony Dinozzo, NCIS special agent."

The other man had moved towards his desk and placed his coffee down, he waved from where he was. "Timothy McGee, NCIS agent." Harry nodded at him.

"So Zi-va, social visits in the office? Tut tut." Dinozzo teased.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "It's not a social visit Tony." She stood up and grabbed the remote to the plasma. "He's British secret intelligence; he brought me some files on the Rainiers." She pressed a button and the files for both Rainiers popped up side by side, on the screen.

McGee looked at Harry funny. "You came all the way from England to give Ziva a USB drive?"

Harry shrugged. "Confidential data and all that, can't have people making copies and what not." He leant back against Ziva's desk. "Besides, I have some work state side, so I figured why not?"

Tony continued to look at him suspiciously. "What are you doing in the states?"

Harry gave him a big grin. "Something very, very classified." Ziva rolled her eyes and Tony looked disgruntled.

"So, what about you guys? What are you all up to?" Harry asked.

Tony took great care in taking off his jacket before leaning against his desk. "I'm afraid, that's very, very classified." He said slowly.

Harry chuckled. "Fair enough." Before Harry could say anything else, a man in his late forties walked into the team area. He was about five foot ten with greying hair and a serious demeanour. He had a large take-away coffee in his hand.

Ziva stood up. "Gibbs." She said, moving towards the man. "I've got more information on the Rainiers, from the source I mentioned." Ziva nodded to Harry.

Gibbs looked Harry over slowly and Harry felt the uncomfortable feeling that he was being examined and found wanting.

"He doesn't look like much." He said with a sip of his coffee. "I expected... something else from a spook."

Hiding his discomfort, Harry spoke. "That's the point, if people look at me and instantly think 'spy' then I've done something wrong."

Gibbs gave him another long look before nodding. "What've you got?"

Harry nodded to Ziva and she pointed to the screen. "The Rainiers were Canadian born assassins for hire, this we already knew, but the files have in-depth character studies of each, vital if we was t to impersonate them."

Harry could Ziva was enjoying this, the brief before the op. Not all that surprising from a control officer.

"The Rainiers were consummate professionals who were very good at their jobs; initial intelligence suggested that they could have been involved in twenty-five murders, though the files from MI6 suggest a number twice that size spread all across the globe." The rest of the team was watching Ziva with interest, as was Harry. He had to admit, she definitely had a certain... Je nais se quoi about her.

"They left no calling card and the method of execution varied often enough to be hard to trace, however, it appears that Jean-Paul specialized in the long range and impersonal whereas Sophie handled the more up close jobs." Ziva pressed a button and slides appeared on the plasma.

"As you can see, the Rainiers were available for all varieties of jobs; from the quiet in and out to publicly sending a message." Two slides where side by side on the screen, one with a man slumped down in a dark crawlspace. The other with a man halfway to the floor, stood on a stage at a political rally with blood spurting from the back of what used to be his head.

Ziva pressed the button again. "They were also available for... information extraction." The team viewed the image with distaste. It showed a man, tied to a chair, viciously beaten and covered with burn marks. "They were not good people; Jean-Paul was in and out of correctional facilities from the ages of thirteen to eighteen, with counts of breaking and entering, assault and battery. Sophie was much the same, she bit a classmate's ear off when she was fourteen and spent time in a juvenile detention centre at sixteen for beating an ex-boyfriend with a tyre iron for cheating on her."

Tony whispered to McGee. "Remind you of anyone?" He asked with a quiet chuckle, nodding slightly to Ziva.

Ziva heard him "I assure Tony, I wouldn't beat them with a tyre iron" She said in a deceptively sweet voice, pulling a knife from her waist. "I'd suffocate them with their own genitals." Tony paled and shifted uncomfortably, Harry winced along with him. That just wasn't cricket.

"As I was saying, I believe we now have enough information to effectively place a plant at the hotel tomorrow." She said to Gibbs, who was nodding along with her.

"You're right, we do. I want you and Dinozzo to impersonate the Rainiers."

Ziva took a deep breath. "I want Potter to come with me."

Harry leant back to watch the fireworks. _'This ought to be interesting'_

* * *

**A/N: **so, thoughts? feelings? tell me what you thought, what did you like, what didn't you like? I'm interested to know. I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed already. :) thanks you very much, your ideas will help shape this work.


	4. Chapter 3

**Average: Chapter 2**

Harry wasn't disappointed.

Tony objected almost immediately, citing that it would breach almost every regulation they had by allowing Harry to operate on this. Ziva argued that Harry was the best choice, due to the fact that he was trained for this type of work and that he was experienced in covert operations. McGee looked on, indecisive about the whole thing, though leaning towards Tony's position.

Throughout it all, Harry noticed that Gibbs was simply watching it all with a mask of indifference on his face.

After a while, Gibbs spoke up. "You done?" He asked loudly.

"Boss, you've got to see that this is a bad idea!" Dinozzo exclaimed, throwing his hands out.

"Potter is the best choice here Gibbs." Ziva said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, lips pursed.

"What is going on here?" Asked an exasperated voice from behind Harry, He turned to see a red headed woman in her early forties. "Well Jethro?" She asked, raising an eyebrow in Gibbs' direction.

"Just a disagreement on protocol director, nothing serious." He said, his voice still gruff, though Harry could see the slight softening of his eyes and the tiny upwards twitch of his lips.

_'Interesting'_

"Really?" She asked, rolling her eyes. "Care to tell me what it's about?"

"Ziva wants to bring an unsanctioned foreign national in on an investigation." Dinozzo blurted.

The director's eyebrows slowly went up. "Is this true Ziva?" She asked patiently.

Ziva nodded firmly. "Yes director, I think he's the best choice in the situation."

The Director turned towards Harry. "And who exactly are you Mr..?"

Harry stuck his hand out. "Potter, Ma'am." She took his hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Jenny Shepard, director of NCIS." She released his hand. "And why, might I ask, does Ziva think you to be the best choice for whatever it is you're doing?"

Harry pulled his ID from his inner jacket pocket and showed it to the director. "Allow me to re-introduce myself. Harry Potter, SIS Intelligence Officer."

The director gave Harry a long look. "This raises more questions than it answers Mr. Potter, such as, why is there a member of MI6 stood in my bullpen?"

Harry shrugged. "Ziva asked for Data, that data was property of Her Majesty's government, so where the data goes, I go."

The director nodded ever so slightly before turning back to the NCIS team. "And I assume that the case being discussed is the Rainier case?"

"Yes director." Ziva answered. "I was saying that Potter is the best person to pose as Jean-Paul whilst I pose as Sophie to find out what they were going to be doing at the USMC birthday party."

"And I was saying that it goes completely against the regulations to allow him to participate." Dinozzo said.

The director gave Tony a funny look. "I'd of pegged you as the last person likely to stand up for the regulations Dinozzo."

Tony looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, they have their uses sometimes." The director cocked her head to the side.

"And do you honestly believe Officer Potter to be the best choice here Ziva?" She asked.

"I do director." Ziva answered.

Director Shepard nodded slowly. "Jethro, Can I speak with you in MTAC please?" Gibbs nodded and they both made their way to the stairs, leaving Harry and the team in the bullpen.

"Well" Harry said, clapping his hands together as he stood. "I'm going for a piss." And with that, he walked off in search of a bathroom.

Five minutes later Harry was walking back to the bullpen when he heard McGee's voice.

"I don't think that's a good idea Tony." He sounded slightly worried.

"Have you no concept of privacy Dinozzo?" Ziva asked, sounding bored.

_'Can't be doing anything too bad if Ziva's letting it happen.'_

"Not when there's spy around, no." Tony said. "Besides, I don't trust him."

Harry turned the corner to see Tony rummaging through his suitcase, whilst McGee watched and Ziva tried to pretend that she wasn't. Harry leant against the side of the bullpen and watched as Tony continued to root about in his suitcase. Ziva saw him from her desk and discreetly raised an eyebrow in his direction. Harry just shot her wink.

"What on earth is this?" Dinozzo asked, pulling Harry's Webley from his suitcase. Ziva's eyes widened.

"Tony, put Harry's antique down, he likes that lump of metal." Harry glared at her over Dinozzo's shoulder.

"This thing's got some weight to it." Tony said, hefting it experimentally. "It looks ancient though, where do you suppose he got it?"

Ziva shrugged. "I haven't a clue." She snatched it from Tony's hand. "He had it when I met him."

"How did you meet him anyway?" McGee asked.

"Pure accident, he kicked down my door and broke three of my ribs, about three and a half months ago, just outside of Jericho." Both Tony and McGee were looking at her in shock, Harry frowned.

"You didn't tell me that I'd broken your ribs." He said, making his presence know. Tony jumped. "It didn't seem to slow you down any."

"Great, now there are two them ghosting around the place."

"We were quite busy at the time, if you remember."

Harry nodded, taking back his Webley.

"So wait, if you two met by smacking each other about, why are you here helping Ziva now?" McGee asked Harry curiously.

Harry grimaced. "After Ziva knocked my balls into the back of my throat we figured out we were on the same side." Tony snorted.

"Potter chased a Mossad asset over a mile and a half of dirt track because he was led to believe that the asset was a terrorist." Ziva said. "The asset turned out to be a snake and moused us out when he left."

"Ratted, Zi-va, it's ratted" Tony said.

Ziva waved her hand. "Whatever. The point is, the building we were in was raided and we had to fight our way out." Harry sat on the edge of Ziva's desk.

"Afterwards he drove me back to Tel Aviv and gave me his number, saying it was 'important to know people in this business', the Rainier case came up and I took him up on the offer of help." Ziva shrugged. "That's all there is to it."

Dinozzo sat back in his chair with a large grin. "And here I was, hoping to hear about the torrid love affair of two spies from different agencies spanning the spy world." He wagged his eyebrows. "You know, catching stolen moments in cities around the world for fiery reunions between high risk missions whilst avoiding the watchful eyes of your handlers."

Harry smirked at Dinozzo for a moment, thinking he could stir him up a little. "Speaking of torrid love affairs, I left my towel at your place last night Ziva, could you drop it back to me at some point?"

Ziva nodded absently, not really paying attention as she went through something on her computer. "Sure, you can come by later and get it."

Just as Harry expected, Tony took the innocent comment and ran with it. Harry could almost hear the gears in his head come to a screeching halt as his jaw fell to his chest, looking between the Englishman and the Israeli.

"Dinozzo! Shut your mouth, you'll catch something." Came Gibbs' irritated voice as he reappeared in the bull pen.

"Yes boss." Dinozzo said as he snapped to it.

"So, what's the verdict boss?" McGee asked as Gibbs sat down at his desk.

"Potter will be going with Ziva." He said shortly, busying himself with something or other.

"Boss!" Said Dinozzo in disbelief.

"Directors orders Dinozzo."

"Yes boss."

Gibbs turned to look at Harry. "I've just had one of the most irritating conversations of my life with your lot." He said with a glare. "Beyond your name, they won't tell me a damn thing about you." He sighed. "But they assure me that you're good at what you do. Do not balls this up. You've been given special dispensation to work with NCIS in a consulting capacity. You'll have limited access to case files and will be allowed access to the bullpen in the spirit of helping out."

Harry nodded and Gibbs continued. "Unless specifically stated by myself, the director or a senior field agent; MTAC, autopsy, the labs, and the director's office are off limits. You can use the break room and the pistol range as you wish."

Harry nodded again. "I understand."

Gibbs gave him a long look. "Be sure that you do." He then turned back it his work, obviously dismissing Harry.

Harry went to go and sit on Ziva's desk. "So" He began with a grin. "We're married Mrs. Rainier."

Ziva smirked at him. "Not until tomorrow Potter." Harry nodded.

"Anyway, I need to talk to my Handler; I might be able to find out what they discussed in MTAC."

Harry pulled his cryptophone out from his pocket and headed toward the break room. Holding down the speed dial for James, Harry waited for it to connect.

"Authenticate." Came the mechanical order.

"One, one, zero, nine, two, eight, eight, nine."

"Authorized, connecting."

Harry waited a beat and a half.

"Report agent." James voice sounded down the secure line.

"I've been made a consulting agent for NCIS, know anything about that?" Harry asked.

"It gives you a viable reason to hang around NCIS, fostering good relations between agencies and all that bollocks."

"And in reality?"

"We don't give a toss about NCIS, Primary objective is still information on Eli David. We have a unique opportunity here agent."

Harry nodded to himself. "Understood, out."

Harry left the break room, tucking his phone away as he left. He headed into the bullpen, walking towards Ziva's desk.

"So, what do you actually do all day around here?" Harry asked as he placed his Webley back on Ziva's desk.

"Gibbs, Tony, and McGee piece together evidence and collect leads." She frowned. "I wait until we can follow those leads, I am not... "investigatively inclined" as Tony put it."

"What about life at MI6? Do you do much investigation?" She asked. Harry chuckled.

"Not anymore. I used to before I joined special operations. Normal intelligence officers scour the globe for anything we might ever find useful. Now I'm in special operations though, I jump out of planes and shoot at shit. You know, the fun stuff." The two of them shared a grin.

Ziva leaned back in her chair. "I'm curious about something." Harry smiled at her.

"Shoot." She smiled back.

"Why did you join MI6?" She asked.

Harry shrugged. "The thrill."

"The thrill?" She looked at him in disbelief.

Harry nodded. "I wasn't joking about the jumping out of planes and shooting shit being the fun stuff. Do I enjoy killing people? Not at all, I view it as just another part of the job. Do I enjoy being shot at? Hell yeah!"

He grinned. "Winston Churchill put it best, 'Nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.'"

Ziva looked him like he was somewhat mad for a moment before shaking her head. "You're a fan of Churchill then?" She asked.

Harry nodded. "As far as I'm concerned, the bloke was the embodiment of British spirit and tenacity." Harry stood from the desk. "I may have joined MI6 for the thrills but I'm also quite patriotic."

He moved around and leaned against the inside edge of the desk. "Don't get me wrong, Britain isn't perfect, far from it in fact, but it's my home and I've got a lot to be proud about for it."

Ziva gave a non-committal nod.

"So, what about you David, why did you join Mossad?" He asked, looking at her curiously.

Ziva's face suddenly shut down.

"Same reason as you I suppose, I enjoy shooting things." She was blatantly lying through her teeth but her eyes seemed to be screaming not to push. Harry nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"It is kinda fun, isn't it?" He grinned at her. She gave him a small smile in return.

"I find it's good stress release."

Harry nodded and then stood up suddenly, grabbing hit suitcase and Webley as he went. "C'mon."

Ziva gave him an odd look. "Where?"

Harry grinned at her. "We're going to the range. I want to show you how it's done." He shot her a wink.

She looked at him in disbelief before getting up and following him off. "You realize I'm going to make you look like a child with a toy, right?"

"Ooh, brave words David, we'll see." Harry knew she was probably a better shot than him, at least with the pistol, but he figured some light hearted teasing was what she needed to take her mind off of whatever his question had brought up.

A few minutes later and they were entering the range; Ziva wasn't sure how Harry had managed it really. Harry had led the whole way there and, even though she was almost entirely sure he'd never been to the range, he'd managed to take the fastest route straight to it.

They entered the range and set up in lane one and two respectively. Harry set his Webley on the bench and pulled a black draw string pouch from a zipped side pocket if his suitcase. Opening the bag, he pulled six .455 cartridges from within.

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "Aren't those quite rare? Are you sure you want to use them just to blow off some smoke?"

Harry chuckled. "It's steam David. And I know a guy; it's not really an issue." The 'guy' in question actually happened to be dobby, who'd of thought that the little blighter would be a skilled hand loader?

Ziva shrugged. "If you're sure, would you like to go first?"

Harry nodded as he slipped the last cartridge into the cylinder. "Don't mind if I do." He said with a grin as he snapped the frame back up. Harry braced, took aim, and began to fire at the target, which was as far back as was possible on the pistol range. A few moments later and he had confidently put all six rounds through the 'face of the paper target. He reeled it in and showed it Ziva.

"Ha, what do you make of that then?" He asked with a smile.

Ziva smirked. "That was actually quite impressive, you're quite fast with that thing"

Harry shot her a wink and playfully blew imaginary smoke from the barrel of the empty Webley "What can I say?"

She chuckled and prepared to fire down her own lane. Moments later and she'd fired off twelve rounds, emptying her Government issue SIG Saur P229 .40S&W. She reeled in the target and pushed it against Harry's chest with a grin.

She'd drawn a bloody smiley face, with a shot each for the eyes and nose and nine shots to make up the mouth.

"Oh that's just not cricket." Harry mumbled, as he looked over the paper target.

Ziva grinned, her dark eyes sparkling. "I think I win, no?"

Harry nodded. "Well, you definitely get points for style." He chuckled. "I hope you realise that this is really bloody scary." He held up the target sheet.

Ziva merely shrugged before turning serious. "Thank you Potter" she waved one hand around. "For this I mean, I needed a quick break."

Harry gave her a small, genuine smile. "Anytime David. You wanna go back and pretend to work now?" He asked.

She chuckled. "Sure." Ziva led the way back to the bullpen and Harry found his eyes drifting to the swish of her hips every now and then.

A few minutes later and they were in the bullpen once more; Gibbs was waiting for them this time however.

"Ziva, Potter." He began, looking at them both. "Take the rest of the day off, familiarise yourself thoroughly with the Rainiers, you'll be checking in as them tonight at six. Meet here at five; you'll be given your full brief then. For now, make yourselves ready." He looked at Ziva. "You know I expect Ziva."

"Yes Gibbs, we'll be back for five."

"Good" He said, turning back to his work.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ziva as they left the NCIS building, heading for her cherry red mini.

"Is he always so... abrupt?"

"Gibbs? Yes, most of the time." She said as she unlocked the car and slipped in. "He's a little rough but he knows what he's doing, one of the best actually. I trust him."

Harry nodded as he climbed into the passenger seat. "Fair enough. How do you feel about tonight?" He asked.

"Excited." She said with a grin, pulling out onto the road. "I've missed this kind of work." She gave him a quick look. "It'll be nice to work with a professional again, the NCIS team are very good but this isn't their area of expertise."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. "Mmm, do you enjoy working at NCIS?" He asked, turning to look at her as she drove.

"I do, yes. They're good people, even Dinozzo. As annoying as he is, he's a very good investigator."

"You find Dinozzo annoying do you? I kinda like him." Harry grinned.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Everyone finds Tony annoying, that doesn't mean I don't like him however, he can be shockingly thoughtful at times."

"Good to know." Harry teased with a smile.

Ziva shot him a look and the rest of the drive continued quietly. Harry didn't mind, it was a comfortable silence and he enjoyed the quiet.

Twenty minutes later they were walking into Ziva's apartment. She tugged off her boots and let out a little sigh as she settled into the settee. Harry followed, leaving his shoes on but taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. Ziva closed her eyes and leant her head against the back of the sofa. Harry checked his watch, 13:39.

Harry let a small smirk cross his features. "So Zi-va, if we're going to pretend to be married... does that mean I can ask you to make me a sandwich?"

Ziva cracked one eye and sent him a scary pirate glare from her position on the settee.

"Try me Potter, I'll break you."

Harry chuckled. "How about I make you a sandwich? We'll call it a late lunch." Harry stood up. "How strictly do you follow kosher?" He asked.

"Pretty strictly, unless there's pizza involved."

"Alrighty then, I'll be back soon." Ziva raised an eyebrow but didn't bother to open an eye this time.

Harry took this as consent and he moved to her small kitchen area. A quick search found some bagels, a packet of smoked salmon and a small tub of cream cheese and chives. Harry split two bagels and spread a liberal amount of cream cheese on each before adding the smoked salmon. Harry put the kettle on and closed the bagels as he added milk and a spoonful of coffee to the cup that Ziva had used earlier in the morning.

About a minute later Harry brought a plate with the bagels on it and the cup of coffee to Ziva on the settee, he set them both down on the coffee table and sat back down himself.

As Ziva set about eating the impromptu lunch Harry leaned back and spoke.

"So, what's the plan for later?" He asked.

Ziva wiped a bit of cream cheese from her lip and set the bagel down on the plate. "After the brief at NCIS we'll treat it like any other operation." Ziva looked at him. "You'll have to disguise your voice."

Harry nodded and then spoke, with a neutral American accent. "Will this do?"

Ziva nodded. "The Rainiers moved around a lot but often returned to America, they hadn't been back to Canada in years at the time of their deaths, it should work just fine."

Harry smiled. "So, who's going to have operational control?" He asked, switching back to his normal accent.

Ziva cocked her head in thought for a moment. "For something like this? The director will probably have overall command from MTAC, though Gibbs will also be moving between MTAC and the ground."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Alrighty then, we best familiarise ourselves with the little details of the Rainiers lives."

Ziva moved to get her laptop.

* * *

Four hours later Harry was slowly shutting the door to the hotel room on the bell boy who'd brought his and Ziva's luggage up. Turning from the door, Harry looked through the room. Ziva was stood by the mini bar, a long backless green dress hanging from her curves.

"So sweetheart, what do you think?" He asked as he stepped up behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck.

She tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes. "It'll do, I suppose." Ziva said.

Harry chuckled against her skin "It'll do, she says" He said, running his fingers down her side. "As she stands in front of the fully stocked mini bar, with a complementary bottle of champagne and fruit basket."

She turned grabbed his tie, fire in her eyes. "I'm not interested in fruit right now." Her voice was sultry.

"No?" He asked, lowly, as she led him to the large bed.

"No." She confirmed, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. "I'm only interested in one thing right now."

"And what might that be?" Harry asked, nibbling on her ear lobe.

"I think you can guess." She said, dropping her dress to the floor with a smirk.

For a moment Harry was struck dumb by the fact that Ziva David was a stunningly beautiful woman.

_'Job first potter.'_

Tearing his focus from the striking beauty in front of him, Harry filled his head with thoughts of assorted non-sexual items, like grapefruits.

"That" He began with a grin. "I can do." He finished, kissing her deeply as they fell to the bed.

Ten minutes later and Harry was slowly kissing his way down Ziva's neck.

"I think that should do it." She whispered in his ear.

Harry smiled against her collar-bone. "We should give it another forty minutes or so." He nipped at her throat. "In the effort of being realistic, of course."

"Realistic hmm?" Suddenly he felt Ziva's thighs lock around his waist and she flipped them over. With Harry now firmly on his back, Ziva leant down and languidly kissed his mouth. "In that case, I prefer to be on top." She finished with a smirk.

Harry knotted his fingers in her thick hair and pulled her mouth down to his. "Then lead on my dear." He said with a grin.

Forty minutes later and there was a loud knock at door, shattering the frenzied haze that Harry had slipped into over the last fifteen minutes. He slipped a hand under one of the pillows and grasped a gun, he wasn't sure if it was Ziva's or his.

"Room service." Came a voice along with another knock.

"It's McGee." Ziva whispered. Harry released his grip on the gun and un threaded his other hand from Ziva's hair. He let out a breath as Ziva jumped from the bed and slipped into a tiny, silky dressing gown and headed for the door.

Harry let his head fall back onto the bed and took a moment to collect himself before he also got up and pulled on a dressing gown. A white, non-silky, hotel dressing gown.

McGee wheeled a trolley into the room. "Complementary gifts of the hotel ma'am, sir." He nodded to both Harry and Ziva, placing a flower vase on side, facing the room. He handed Ziva a small box and took out a bug sweeper. "Just making sure everything's in order, sir, ma'am."

Ziva opened to box and Handed Harry an ear piece, putting her own in as she did.

McGee pointed to a spot on the table mouthing, 'Here', Harry nodded and McGee stepped up to the trolley, taking the silver lid off of a cheese platter.

"Please accept this selection of fine cheeses, compliments of the hotel." McGee said, placing the lid over the microphone. "We should be able to talk now, if we whisper." Harry nodded, reaching for the bottle of whisky on the far side of trolley, Glenfiddich twenty-one year old.

Suddenly his ear piece crackled to life. "Comfortable Potter?" It was director Shepard.

"Yeah, getting there." He said, cracking the cap of the bottle. "Why?" He asked.

"We can see you Potter, all of you." She sounded amused and Harry looked down, his dressing gown had come apart when he'd reached for the bottle. He looked towards the flowers and realised that they were pointing straight at him.

Harry chuckled and placed the whisky in front of his privates. "Enjoying the view director?" He asked with a wink at the vase.

"Put some goddamn clothes on Potter, and try and find some professionalism while you're at it." Now it was Gibbs' voice coming through the ear piece. Harry tied the robe closed and moved about the room, collecting his clothes from where they had been flung.

Harry looked over to the vase, he was still in view of it, McGee had just left, and he then looked down at his dressing gown before shrugging.

'Body modesty's for civvies.'

He dropped the robe and grabbed his boxers. He pulled them on as the phone rang. "Ziva, answer the phone." Director Shepard said.

Harry watched Ziva move to the phone as he pulled on his trousers.

"Hello." She answered, after a moment she pulled a book from the bedside table and then pulled a phone from the book. "I've got it." She hung up and turned to face Harry.

"It turns out we were able to get reservations at the hotel restaurant after all my love." She said, placing her hand on his bare chest and tracing the scars from a small cluster nine millimetre wounds. "Looks like I'll be getting dressed up for you tonight."

Harry grasped her hand and slowly brought it to his lips. "What time are the reservations for?" He asked, kissing her knuckles.

"Nine thirty." She answered.

"Understood, we'll have Dinozzo and McGee stationed in the restaurant to provide over watch." Director Shepard's voice crackled through their ear pieces.

"Maintain your cover until then." Gibbs said. "And I don't want to see your pale ass again Potter."

Harry chuckled quietly and settled down on the large settee, foregoing his shirt. Ziva joined him and he slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as he turned the television on.

"What are you doing?" She whispered.

"I'm not sure, I figured that this was how married couples watched T.V." He whispered back, flicking through the channels.

Ziva nodded slowly, laying her head on his shoulder.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, Harry and Ziva were sat in the hotel restaurant being briefed on discoveries made by the NCIS chief medical examiner; Donald 'Ducky' Mallard.

"From the state of his small intestine, I would say that Mr Rainier had a fondness for red meat, the callouses on his hands also suggest that he was left handed. Mrs Rainier seemed to have had a much more fibrous diet, I would also say that she was right handed."

Harry nodded to himself as he took a pair of glasses, with a camera hidden in the frame, from the breast pocket of his blazer and picked up the menu with his left hand.

"Visuals are good Potter." Gibbs said through the ear piece.

Just as Gibbs had finished talking, the waiter arrived. "May I take your orders, sir, Madam?" He asked with an industry smile.

"I'll have a rump steak, bleu, with a glass of the two-thousand and four Chateau Peyros Madiran please." Harry ordered.

"And I'll have the steamed halibut with a glass of the two thousand and four St. Supery sauvignon blanc." Ziva ordered with a smile.

The waiter took their menus with another industry smile. "Of course." He headed off.

Harry slowly swept his gaze across the room. "It's quite full tonight sweetheart, see anyone you recognize?" He asked Ziva with a smile.

She nodded thoughtfully. "A few, yes. How about you?"

"Yes, though no obvious targets. The really big players won't arrive until tomorrow, and they'll only stay for the ball." He answered. A short while later the waiter returned with their orders. Placing them on the table, he spoke.

"Will there be anything else?"

Harry looked at Ziva, who gave a small shake of her head. "No thank you, that will be all."

"Of course sir". The waiter left and Harry cut into his steak. Ziva made a face.

"How can you eat it that?" She asked as Harry put a slice of the steak in his mouth and let in practically melt on his tongue, perfect.

He swallowed before answering. "What can I say? I like my steak to moo at me from the plate." He chuckled and took a sip of his wine. He'd developed a taste for rare meat just after he turned nineteen, after a bar fight with an untransformed werewolf had left him with a nasty scar on his right bicep.

"Anyway," He began, cutting another slice of steak. "How's your fish?" He asked.

Ziva chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Good, really good actually." Harry smiled and was about to try and spark up a conversation when the drop phone from the Rainiers contact began to ring. Ziva picked it up.

"Hello" she began to look around. "He's here?" She frowned. "Relax, I've been flying for twenty hours, we'll see him." She took a sip of her wine. "You neglected to mention that the target would be surrounded by marines, we've decided that the price offered isn't enough to cover the extra danger." She looked at Harry. "Good, we'll be waiting."

"The call came from a pay phone in the hotel restaurant." Gibbs voice blared over the ear piece.

"Excuse me for a moment love; I've got to nip to the lavatory." Harry stood up and began to move towards the payphones by the kitchen. Striding quickly towards his destination, Harry took a quick look around before moving towards end phone, the phone with the hand set hanging by its cord.

Harry looked it over it for a moment before he heard a voice from behind him. "Freeze federal agent!" Harry tossed a look over his shoulder, it was McGee.

"Relax agent, it's me." McGee lowered his weapon and walked towards him.

"Anything?" He asked.

"Nah, I didn't even get a look at him." Harry ran a hand over his face. "He obviously left in a hurry though; my guess is through the kitchens."

McGee nodded. "I'll handle this; you get back to dinner, and your cover." Harry nodded.

As he was walking back to the table, he heard Tony's voice come through the ear piece.

"There's nothing outside, whoever it was, they got away clean boss."

"Alright Dinozzo, get back to your position." Gibbs sounded frustrated.

Harry sat back down at the table. "It was a no go; the guy gave us the slip." He said as he set about finishing off his steak.

Ziva nodded as she finished her wine, her fish long gone. "We'll get another chance." She said with confidence. "He'll be calling again to negotiate the new payment."

Harry hummed as he finished his steak.

Gibbs' voice interrupted his musings however, his voice sounding through the ear piece.

"You two can get back to your room now, there's nothing more to do here now." He paused for a moment. "Keep up your cover, expect a wakeup call."

Harry left instruction, for the meal to be charged to their room, on the table before standing up and offering his arm to Ziva. "And here I was hoping for desert, the treacle tart looked so good as well." He said with a rueful smile.

Ziva chuckled, taking his arm. "Poor baby, however will you cope?" She teased as they made their way back to the room.

"I know!" He exclaimed. "I'm devastated." He finished with a grin as they entered the lift. A short while later and they were back in their room.

Harry checked his watch as he set the room key on the table, 22:05.

"Bed time, you think?" He asked, taking off his blazer.

"Yes, big day tomorrow." Ziva said, rolling her shoulders.

Harry nodded and set about getting undressed and grabbing his toiletries as Ziva headed for the shower. Twenty minutes later Ziva came out of the bathroom, hair down and dressed for bed in a pair of sleep shorts and a buttoned top made from the same material as her dressing gown.

Harry went to was up and came out fifteen minutes later in his boxers, his toiletries left in the bathroom. Ziva was already in bed and he slipped in next to her. Mindful of the surveillance, he pressed a quick kiss to her temple.

"Night love."

"Goodnight, my little bed head." She replied.

Harry chuckled and turned off the lamp on the bed side table.

_'Big day tomorrow...'_

* * *

**A/N: **so, what does everybody think? too slow? too fast? just right? tell me what you liked, tell me what you didn't like, I'm dying to know. on another note, I'd love to see some fanart for this, maybe even a cover image done by a reader who's 'artistically inclined' if anything gets done, please send me links, I'd love to see it. :) as always. read and review. the reviews matter to me. :)


	5. Chapter 4

**Average: Chapter 4**

Harry was staring in slack jawed shock from his position on the bed.

Ziva was snoring, and not the cute type of snuffling snore you sometimes find with attractive women, but full on _snoring,_ like a sailor, passed out after too much pussers.

"Ziva." He whispered, mindful of the bug at the end of the room. No response.

"Ziva!" She whispered slightly louder. No response.

Harry rolled his eyes and called out. "Sophie!" Response.

Ziva rolled over, laying a leg over his hips and pressing her sidearm against his temple.

"Wot iz it?" She asked quietly, her voice full of sleep and her eyes still closed.

Harry took the gun from her hands and placed it on the bedside table. "You're snoring like a drunk sweetheart." He chuckled.

"I dun snore." She said, already going back to sleep, curled up on his chest.

'_Great' Harry_ thought to himself. _'Now I'll never get to sleep.' _Harry looked down at Ziva's sleeping form and the way her thick hair was spilling over his chest.

_'At least she doesn't bite in her sleep or anything.' _She started up once again with the room shaking snores. _'There is that though.' _

Harry closed his eyes, trying to ignore the snoring, and attempted to fall asleep. He eventually managed it, just about, twenty minutes later.

When Harry next awoke he checked his watch, 04:45, and decided that, that was that, he probably wouldn't be able to catch anymore shut eye so he was up for good now.

He looked down at Ziva, still asleep on his chest; the snoring had lessened now and was more of a 'tired teenager' rather than 'drunken sailor'. She seemed to have made herself comfortable and was occasionally nuzzling his neck, her thick hair tickling his skin.

He smiled down at her and slowly slipped out from beneath her, getting out of bed and dropping to the floor in the half press up position.

When Ziva awoke fifteen minutes later the bed was empty, and that was odd because she distinctly remembered having a partner last night when she went to sleep. She raised her head and looked around the room, peering into the darkness. Harry's head was popping up at the side of the bed before disappearing every couple of seconds.

"Morning love." He grunted out, twisting so his elbow met his opposite knee as he raised his torso from the floor.

"Good morning." She said, running one hand through her hair. "Have you been up long?" She asked.

Harry looked at the clock on the bedside table as he rose once more. "Only fifteen minutes or so." He completed one last rep before he laid back on the ground and took a deep breath.

Ziva nodded from the bed as Harry hauled himself from the floor and placed his hands on the bed so he could lean over and give her a kiss good morning. Ziva's nose wrinkled.

"Go brush your teeth and have a shower." She chuckled. "You smell of sweat and you have morning breath." Harry gave her a slightly self-deprecating grin.

"I guess I do smell a bit." He went and picked up a towel from the wardrobe. "I'll be out in a bit."

Ziva let out a cat-like stretch as Harry walked into the bathroom before getting out of bed and dropping to the floor herself.

When Harry came out of the bathroom ten minutes later to find Ziva doing Hindu press ups by the side of the bed in her tiny bed shorts he cocked his head to side and let out a low whistle.

"I must have slipped and brained myself in the shower, because no man's lucky enough to have wife like you." He said with a grin.

Ziva dropped to the floor with her last rep and rolled over onto her back to see Harry stood there, hair wet and dressed in a pair of Joggers. "Shut up and hold my feet." She said, grinning back at him.

Harry got onto his knees in front of her and braced her feet as she started crunching. He counted her off as she went and two minutes later she effortlessly shifted into sit ups without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to his lips as she did, much to Harry's surprise.

Three minutes later and she laid back against the floor, face flushed and chest heaving. "I'm done." She said after she'd caught her breath. "I'm going to have a shower."

Harry nodded and helped her to her feet before he went over to grab some clothes for the day from the wardrobe. He couldn't help but notice, however, the slight swish of her his as Ziva headed for the bathroom.

Shaking his head, Harry set about getting dressed for the day in a pair of dark blue jeans, a simple white v-neck, and a grey jumper.

Ziva came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later in the same silky dressing gown from yesterday, towelling her hair as she went.

Harry smiled at her from the settee. "Feel better?" He asked.

Ziva came over and joined him, sitting by his side and leaning her head against his shoulder. "Much."

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"We've got, maybe, forty-five minutes until Gibbs sends a wakeup call." She whispered into his shoulder.

Harry nodded against her head. "D'you reckon there's anything on T.V?"

Ziva shrugged. "Maybe."

They spent the next forty-five minutes flicking through the T.V channels, occasionally chatting about something that popped up.

McGee's voice crackled over the ear piece at about 06:30. "Ziva? Potter? How long have you guys been up?"

"Since about 05:00." Ziva whispered, snuggling into Harry's side.

"Alright. Well this is the boss's wake up call. A package arrived for you this morning Ziva."

"My shades?" She asked interestedly.

"Yeah, Gibbs opened them." He sounded slightly nervous and Harry chuckled.

"That's fine McGee; can you send them up with breakfast?"

"Of course." He paused for a beat. "Um, what do you guys want for breakfast?" He sounded a little awkward and Ziva smiled to herself.

"That's okay McGee; we'll order room service like everyone else. Just put the shades on our trolley."

"Okay, will do." The line went quiet.

Harry looked down at Ziva, comfortably resting against his side. "The breakfast orders start at seven, any idea what you actually want?" He asked.

She chewed her lip in thought for a moment and Harry thought it looked kinda cute. "Fried eggs, toast and perhaps a salad of some variety, with a coffee." She looked up at him. "How about you?"

Harry thought for a moment before answering. "Poached eggs on toast with a glass of orange juice." He thought about ordering tea but decided that it was probably safer to have orange juice in America.

They passed the next half an hour or so idly chatting about different breakfast foods. When Harry's watch beeped seven Ziva stood and walked over to the phone. Harry found himself watching the way her silky dressing gown moved as she walked.

She picked up the phone and gave her room number. "Hello, yes I'd like to order breakfast." She waited a beat. "I'd like one order of fried eggs with toast and a small salad on the and a cup of coffee; I'd also like one order of poached eggs on toast with a glass of orange juice." She waited another beat. "Yes, thank you." She hung up.

She sat back down on the settee, taking her place curled up to his side again. "Breakfast should be up shortly." She said softly.

Harry nodded. "Sounds good." He said with a smile. They continued to watch what was on T.V, a program on the species of fish found in the amazon, whilst they waited for breakfast.

A short while later there was a knock at the door. Harry stood up, drawing his SIG from its concealed holster on the small of his back and racking its slide as he went.

"Who is it?" He called out, approaching the door with his weapon raised slightly.

"Room service." McGee's voice answered.

Harry holstered his SIG and moved to open the door.

"That was fast." He said with a smile as McGee wheeled in the breakfast trolley.

"We pride ourselves on speedy service sir." He answered with an industry smile.

"You can put it over there, on the table by the balcony." Ziva said.

"Right you are ma'am." Harry smirked, McGee would make an alright waiter if he ever wanted a career change.

McGee placed the food on the table and turned to Ziva. "A package arrived for you this morning ma'am, I brought it up with breakfast." He said, placing a cardboard box on the table with the food.

"Thank you." Ziva smiled at him.

"Will there be anything else?" He asked.

"That will be all, thank you." Harry said.

"Of course sir." And with that, McGee left, wheeling the trolley with him.

Harry sat down opposite Ziva at the table, taking a sip of his orange juice before digging into his breakfast. Ziva opened her package, taking out and putting on her new sunglasses. She looked at him.

"What do you think?" She asked, cocking her head to the side.

Harry smirked. "Very sexy sweetheart." He slowly trailed his eyes over her. "Though I'm not sure they go with the dressing gown."

"I could always take the dressing gown off?" She asked with faux innocence.

Harry chuckled into his juice. "I might take you up on that later."

"I look forward to it." She smirked, beginning to eat her breakfast. After a moment she took the sunglasses of, changed the lenses, and put them back in before looking out of the window. A few beats later she turned to look at him.

"How about some music?" She asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her and she nodded slightly towards the bug.

"Something with a beat." She continued.

"Of course sweetheart." He grasped the remote and turned on the stereo, something bouncy with a heavy bass line came on, filling the room with sound.

"What is it?" He asked, leaning forward.

"Top floor, left hand side, the building across the street has a laser trained on our room."

Harry nodded slightly.

"Did you get that Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

"I got it." His voice crackled through the ear piece. "We'll handle it but we could use a distraction, something to keep them focused on your room whilst we get into position."

Harry smirked. "That, I can do." He said quietly before her leaned over the table to capture Ziva's lips in a searing kiss.

Catching on, she spoke. "I take it this is later?" She smirked at him. "You're insatiable."

"Well" Harry said, standing up and leading her to the bed, breakfast forgotten for now. "When you're married to a woman as beautiful as you, a man finds certain things hard to control." He said, kissing down the side of her neck.

She let out a small groan. "Flattery will get you everywhere." She said.

"That's the plan sweetheart." He said with a grin as Ziva pushed him back onto the bed.

She smirked at him, crawling onto the bed a straddling his waist.

Harry pulled his t-shirt and his jumper off together and threw them to the floor as Ziva began to kiss her way down his torso. Harry trailed his hands over the silky fabric over her dressing gown before hastily unbuckling his jeans. Ziva pulled them almost all the way off with a powerful yank and then pushed them past his ankles before attaching her lips to his chest again. Harry tangled one hand in her thick hair and placed the other on her hip before flipping them over and pulling the covers over them.

"How are we going to play this?" She asked in-between trailing kisses over his jaw.

"You moan, I make noises like a dying animal and shake the bed, and then we both hope they buy it."

"Lovely." She deadpanned before biting her lip. "I'm not wearing anything under this." She whispered.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "We'll work around it." He said, sucking on her collar-bone.

She tangled her fingers in his messy hair before wrapping her thighs around his waist. "Let's just get it done; I've done more extreme things for an op before. At least you've still got underwear on." Harry kissed his way up her neck to her jaw and placed his hands on the head-board before whispering.

"Ready?"

"Ready." Harry kissed her slowly on the lips and started to bang the head-board against the wall, a few moments later Ziva began to let out some quite convincing moans.

Twenty minutes later Gibbs' voice crackled over the ear pieces. "We're in position, big finish now."

Harry pressed a frenzied kiss to her lips and picked up the pace. After a moment Ziva grinned up at him and let out a long, keening, wail. Harry growled low in his throat and pressed his face into her neck.

The sound of shouting filled the ear piece for a minute before silence took over, there were no gun shots and Harry took that as a good sign.

"Do you think they bought it?" He asked Ziva.

She smirked up at him and playfully rolled her hips. "You did."

Harry let out a breathy chuckle before rolling off of her and pulling her against his side. "I can't even pretend that that's my knee."

Ziva chuckled and placed a hand on his chest, slowly playing with the light hair there.

"We might have to pay damages though." He said thoughtfully, running his fingers up and down her silk covered back.

"Why?" She asked curiously.

Harry chuckled. "I might have been a little... enthusiastic with the head-board. It went through the wallpaper and chipped off a noticeable amount of the plaster. You can see the brick in places."

Ziva let out a small laugh and threw one leg over his left thigh, resting her head on his chest.

Harry smirked down at the spread of dark hair now covering his chest. "Comfortable?" He questioned.

"Quite." She answered; he could practically hear the teasing grin in her voice.

Rather than reply, he simply threaded one of his hands in her thick hair and started to massage her scalp.

A moment later, Gibbs' voice broke through the silence. "It was the FBI in the building; they were the ones that had your hotel room under surveillance." He did not sound amused, quite the opposite actually.

"Do you want us back in bullpen?" Ziva asked, sitting up in bed.

"No." He sighed. "No, stay there and maintain your cover, we'll deal with this."

"Understood Gibbs." Ziva said, standing up and moving to the wardrobe. "You catch that?" She asked, shimmying her bed shorts on under her dressing gown.

Harry nodded from the bed. "Yep, every word." He answered as he watched Ziva climb back into bed beside him. She curled up to his side again and settled her head on his chest, tracing a cluster of nine millimetre scars on the left side of his chest.

"You know," He said after a moment. "For a five-star hotel, there's not much to do around here; except eat, sleep, and screw." He grinned down at her. "Or pretend to screw as the case may be."

Ziva scraped her nails down his abs and Harry felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine.

"It's a good thing we were pretending." She said. Harry could almost see the smirk in her voice. "You might not survive the real thing." She teased.

Harry felt his eyebrows practically smack his hair-line.

"Oh? You think so, do you?" He asked.

Ziva rolled onto him, straddling his hips. "I know so." She said as she lent down to nibble the hollow between his throat and his jaw.

Harry fought to keep his cool, earlier was easy, it was part of the op - just business. This was different, personal. Harry didn't deal well with personal. His ability to differentiate, to keep business separate from personal, was his strength.

She pressed down on him and slowly rolled her hips. "You play a good game Potter." She whispered in his ear, slowly nibbling his ear lobe. "But I'm better." She finished, nipping at his throat.

Harry's almost, _almost,_ groaned.

Ziva lifted her head to look at him, eyes twinkling. "Like I said," She smirked at him. "You wouldn't survive the ride."

Harry forced a mask of confidence onto his features. "I don't know, I think I might enjoy trying." He said, trailing his fingers down her flanks.

Ziva chuckled and move back to curling up by his side, Harry's breath caught in his throat as he felt one of her hardened nipples brush his side through the thin silk of her dressing gown. "I imagine you would." She threw a leg over his hips. "Though you won't be getting a chance anytime soon." She said firmly.

"Guess I'll have to stick around them." He said with a little grin.

Ziva looked at him curiously. "Can you though? What about MI6?" She asked.

Harry shrugged slightly. "I'm on extended assignment since they argued for my consultant status at NCIS. My handler said something about fostering relations with other agencies, or some sort of bollocks like that." Harry chuckled. "Frankly, I think they just want me gone for a bit, and this popped up, so they practically jumped at the idea."

Ziva raised herself up on her shoulder to look at him. "Why would they want you gone?"

Harry thought quickly. "Well, I'm not exactly a model agent." He said with a sheepish grin. "I've been described as a loose cannon from time to time." This was true, Harry wasn't a model agent, and he often made split second decisions - for better or worse. Of course, these were often correct and Harry had only been reprimanded twice in his career.

"It wouldn't surprise me if they wanted me out of their hair for a bit."

"So, what? Now you're NCIS' problem for a bit." She asked with a smirk

"Pretty much." He grinned. "What about you?" He asked. "How did you get saddled with the brand spanking new position of 'NCIS-Mossad liaison officer'?"

Ziva's face turned solemn and she turned to sit on the edge of the bed, facing away from Harry. "I came to America on an op for Mossad... afterwards I needed to get away from it all for a while." She ran a hand through her hair. "I knew Jenny, and she pulled some ropes to keep me here in an official capacity."

Harry quickly decided against correcting her and settled for moving to sit next to her on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I take it that the op went sour?"

She let out a bitter laugh and looked at him. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."

Harry looked at her, her lips were pursed and she had a slight scowl marring her pretty features. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

"Not particularly."

Harry gave her a small smile. "That's fine, we've all got one of those."

She looked at him curiously but didn't ask.

Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair. "It's okay, I don't mind talking about it."

He let out a sigh. "It was my first op, about two years ago now; I was a junior intelligence officer." His eyes went distant. "I was assigned to a low-level espionage mission." He gave her a grim look. "Low risk, you know?"

He continued before she could speak. "I was sent with a senior agent, to assess me, to make sure I didn't screw up. We were looking into a Russian arms smuggling ring based in Volgograd, suspected of trafficking weapons through England on their way to Atlantic pirates, small time scum." He rubbed his face. "We were supposed to find out where they were getting their kit from, they had steadily started to get their hands on more and more over the last few months, we wanted to know how they were doing it."

Ziva was listening intently. "What went wrong?" She asked, watching his face. Harry grimaced.

"What didn't? We got in okay but it all went to hell after that. We were discovered snooping about and had to break away, I ended up making my way to the boss's quarters. Pure luck, I was running for my life and I took a lucky turn. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and rummaged through everything I could; hard files, his computer, I even went through the bastard's diary."

Harry let out a grim laugh. "Of course I found what I was looking for alright, I just didn't believe it. The senior agent I was sent with was picked because he had the most experience with the arms ring, he'd been keeping tabs on them - or so we thought."

Harry scowled fiercely. "It seemed that the Queen's money wasn't good enough for the slimy twat anymore, he was taking a bit on the side from the Russians. He'd look the other way during weapon deals in return for a cut of the profits. He made a tidy sum from what I hear."

Harry sighed. "I made my way out as best as I could, I got stopped a few times and it came close more times than I liked, but I made it to the perimeter. That's when Rourke, the senior agent, caught up with me. Bastard had the gall to smile at me. He didn't know that I'd found him out."

Harry looked at Ziva. "I was angry, and I was stupid. I called him out on it, right there by the river. I screamed at him, raged at him, that he was betraying his country by doing this, that he was facilitating British deaths by allowing the weapons to be sold to pirates. It was stupid."

Harry shook his head and pointed to the three nine millimetre scars on his chest that Ziva had played with earlier. "He pulled his gun on me whilst I was screaming at him, I didn't even realize until he put three rounds through my lung. I fell right back into the Volga and he just left, calm as you please." Harry chuckled.

"It was a bloody miracle that I survived." Magic actually, but Ziva didn't need to know that. "But I did, I washed up on the opposite shore and some kids found me, robbed me blind and then called an ambulance." Harry grinned. "Suppose I can't blame them for looking out for themselves, at least they actually called the ambulance."

Ziva nodded. "They could have just left you for dead." She said quietly. "You're lucky."

Harry smiled slowly. "Yeah, I am. I've always been like that I guess. I've always had just that little bit of luck on my side, enough to show me through."

"Luck runs out." Ziva said, looking him in the eye.

Harry felt a chill shoot down his spine and he answered quietly. "Yes, I suppose it does."

The sharp voice of Gibbs broke into the dour mood that had settled over the two in the last few moments. "Potter, Ziva? You there?"

"I'm here Gibbs." Ziva answered, standing up from the bed.

"Good, one of the FBI agents is on their way to the hotel, she's going to sweep the room for any additional bugs. She'll be posing as a maid. The safe word will be 'spring cleaning'."

"Understood Gibbs." Ziva said, walking to the wardrobe. She looked towards Harry, raising an eyebrow to ask if he'd caught the message. He nodded and set about collecting his clothing from the floor.

After pulling his clothes on Harry went and sat on the settee, waiting for Ziva to emerge from the bathroom - where she'd gone to get changed.

Ziva came out a few moments later, wearing; a grey skirt, an olive-green shirt and a cardigan. She looked down at the knee-length skirt and twisted her lips slightly.

"I prefer more practical clothing, but it will do."

Harry smiled slightly as he looked at her. "I should be fine for today."

Ziva rolled her eyes and joined him on the settee, flipping the T.V on. She flicked through the channels for a bit and settled on a documentary about fish in the Amazon.

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock at the door. Harry looked towards Ziva and she nodded. Harry stood, drawing his sidearm as he went, and headed for the door. Ziva had her SIG out as well, her heard her rack the slide just before he called out.

"Who is it?"

"Maid service." Came the perky response.

Harry's shit a look at the Ziva and she nodded once more, hiding her gun behind her back. Harry opened the door, holstering his weapon, letting a short lady in a pink maid costume enter the room.

"I'm just here for a little spring cleaning." The woman said with a smile.

Ziva smiled towards her and put the gun down on the breakfast table.

"Right." The lady said. "I'll make this quick, I'm here to sweep the room for bugs and then I'll be gone."

Harry smiled. "Go right ahead."

Harry and Ziva sat at the breakfast table as the FBI agent swept the room, she raised her eyebrows at a black bra by the bed. Ziva just gave her a smirk.

Ziva got a call as the FBI agent finished checking the bed, she went into the bathroom for some privacy.

"So." The agent began. "The room's clean, apart from the bugs we installed. You can talk freely in here."

Harry smiled. "Thank you."

"Anyway, I heard a rumour around NCIS about you." She said, running her eyes over him.

"Oh? What did you hear?" Harry asked with a polite smile.

"That you're not NCIS, they said you were British secret intelligence."

Harry's smile faltered for a second before he firmly shoved it back into place. He'd have to have a chat with the NCIS team about blabbing that about, it was called _secret _intelligence for a reason. For now though it seemed that he was blown. He dropped the American accent.

"Harry Potter, SIS intelligence officer, at your service." He said, offering his hand.

She grinned and shook his hand. "Pleasure to meet you Harry, can I call you Harry?"

Harry nodded, hiding his discomfort. "Of course."

"So listen, after this is finished up, maybe we could go out for drinks?" She asked with a coquettish tilt of her head.

Harry was about to politely decline when Ziva strode out of the bathroom, snapping her mobile closed as she did. "I'm pregnant Potter." She said bluntly.

The FBI agent looked between the two in shock. "I knew they weren't acting." She muttered before speaking to Harry in a slightly louder, though no less shocked, voice. "Maybe some other time Potter." She left the room in a flustered hurry.

Harry's looked over to Ziva with an eyebrow raised. "That was a little blunt." He stated.

Ziva shrugged, walking to the breakfast table; gun in one hand cleaning kit in the other.

"She wasn't your type."

''Oh?" Harry asked with a smirk. "And you what is my type then?"

Ziva looked up at him with a grin as she set about cleaning her SIG. "Dangerous."

Harry chuckled. "Reckon you've got me figured out then?" He asked, sitting opposite her.

She shrugged. "I've got a good idea; it would be arrogant to assume, however, that I know everything about you."

Harry nodded. "Fair enough." He said, looking at her gun. "I haven't seen you fire that, why are you cleaning it?" He asked.

Ziva smiled slightly. "It calms me, allows me to focus on the job in my hand."

Harry smiled. Everyone had their own pre mission rituals. Harry liked to think of a reward he could have if he succeeded, and then treat himself if he did succeed. As a by-product, his admirable success rate had given him an appreciation of fine scotch. One way or the other, this op would be over by tonight.

"It's, the job at hand' by the way, the saying I mean." He said, giving her a small grin.

"Whatever." She said absently. "Same difference."

Harry nodded and sat back in his chair, thinking of his after mission treat. Maybe some treacle tart?

The comfortable silence was broken a few minutes later by the ringing of the drop phone.

Ziva answered almost immediately. "Hello." She waited a beat. "We understand." She hung up, conversation over.

Harry looked at her curiously.

"We've got a meeting. One hour from now, there'll be a black Lincoln waiting outside the lobby."

Harry nodded.

"Did you get that Gibbs?"

"Gibbs is speaking to the director, I'll tell him when he gets back." Dinozzo's voice crackled through the ear piece. "Don't worry about it, we'll probably have cars ready to follow you and McGee and I will most likely be on scene."

"Okay Tony, thanks." Ziva said.

"No problem Zi-vah." Tony said. The line went silent.

"Well then." Harry started. "One hour huh? What do you want to do?"

Ziva shrugged. "Like you said, there isn't much to do here." She answered, re-assembling her weapon. "We could watch T.V, that's about it."

Harry nodded, moving towards the settee. "Nout else to do." He said, sitting down.

Ziva joined him on the settee and they spent the next forty-five minutes idly flicking through channels, stopping to watch one thing for a bit before continuing to look for something else.

Fifteen minutes before they had to be in the lobby, Harry stood from the settee and looked towards Ziva.

"Ready?" He asked, getting a brief flash of the last time he asked her that. He pushed the thought away.

_'Not the time Potter, job first.'_

"Ready." She confirmed, walking towards the door. Harry followed her out.

As they walked side by side down the hall Harry saw a waiter enter the lift, and the doors begin to close.

"Hold the door!" He called, American accent firmly in place, as he broke into a gentle jog.

He slipped into the lift and gave the waiter a small smile. "Thanks." He said as Ziva slipped in just behind him.

"No problem." The waiter nodded at him. The lift began its descent.

Just as the lift hit the fifth floor, Harry caught something in the reflection on the door.

_'The waiter has a gun! Either we've been had, or he's just another fool with a gun trying to make quick cash.'_

"I'd put that away, if I were you." Harry said calmly, still facing the door. The lift hit the fourth floor. "Before I make you eat it."

The lift hit the third floor and the door opened, revealing two more armed men.

_'We've been had...'_

"You're getting off here." The waiter said with a cruel smile.

One of the other men stepped forward, the leader. "Take them to my room." He said softly as he looked Ziva over. "If they resist... kill the woman."

Ziva scowled as she was disarmed. "If you wanted to meet on the third floor, you could have simply said so. Three armed escorts seems a little excessive."

"Very good Mrs Rainier, Our position and our numbers in just two sentences." He sounded amused, never a good thing really. "Too bad your friends can't hear you."

The waiter held up a scrambler. "You're being jammed." He smirked, nudging Harry in the back with his pistol.

The last man, a big blonde bloke with long hair, grabbed Harry by the shoulder and pulled him from the lift before leading him to room 356. Ziva was just behind him, being walked to the room at gun point by the waiter.

They were quickly tied up, back to back, on two chairs when they entered the room. The big man loomed over Harry and the leader lounged back on a chair.

"There are two things you should be painfully aware of right now." He began lowly. "One, nobody leaves this business. And two, you should never threaten the people who pay you."

Now, common sense would dictate that people in positions such as this should simply shut up and listen. Unfortunately, for Harry at least, common sense isn't all that common.

"Should I be writing this down? I feel as if though should be." He asked with a grin.

The leader waved his hand and the big man launched his fist into Harry's face, hard. His head snapped to the side and he let out a pained chuckle.

"Oh, that tickled." He grinned up at the big blonde. "Is that all you got? Come one you Pus, hit me properly!"

The big man smashed his other fist into Harry's jaw, wrenching his head in the opposite direction. Harry spat blood onto the floor and gave the big man a bloody smile. "That's better, you're still a Pus though."

The big man went to punch Harry again but the leader held up his hand. "Stop." He sounded bored. "He's just trying to rile you up."

Harry shrugged as well as he could, being tied up and all. "It's true. Tell me, do you use L'Oréal?" He asked in a perfectly happy voice. "I only ask because you've got such shiny hair."

"Enough." The leader said, walking over to Ziva. "Since your husband is intent on acting like a child, tell me Mrs Rainier - where is the disk?"

"What disk?" Ziva asked, staring dead ahead.

The leader waved his hand. The big man rocked his fist into Harry's jaw for a third time and then followed up by driving his other fist into his nose, breaking it soundly.

Harry groaned. "God damnit Goldilocks! I liked my nose where it was!"

"Shut up." He grunted, smacking Harry over the head.

"I'll ask again." The leader said, straightening up. "Where is the disk?"

Ziva tried a different approach. "How much is our disk worth to you?"

The leader merely chuckled. Goldilocks punched Harry again, swinging his head to the side. Harry spat a glob of blood onto goldilocks' dark suit trousers. "Heh, looks like you've pissed blood." Harry chuckled, bringing his head back up. "Might want to get that checked out."

"The question." The leader began. "Isn't what the disk is worth to us, Mrs Rainier. The question is, what is it worth to you?" He asked.

Goldilocks drove his fist into Harry's stomach. "Listen here, you jolly fucking giant." He coughed out. "I'm getting real tired of your shit."

The big man grabbed him by the hair. "I could always beat your wife instead." He said. The leader simply watched.

Harry's eyes went cold and all humour left his voice. "You touch my wife" He growled out. "And I'll feed you your fucking heart! I swear it."

The big man let go of Harry head and laughed, low in his throat, as he stepped around Harry to Ziva's side. "You're tied up little man, you can't do shit." He said and swiftly back handed her, knocking her head back to smack Harry's.

"Enough." The leader said. He waived the waiter over and took a wickedly sharp blade from a case. "You know, they say that the Peruvians make blades so sharp that some people can't even feel the initial incision." He said, brushing the blade over Ziva's cheek.

"We'll give you a few moments alone to discuss it. When I get back, I want the disk."

He led the way out of the room, the big man and the waiter following him. The door shut with a click.

"I might have a plan." Harry said quickly.

"Might?" Ziva asked.

"We're going to give them the disk."

"But we don't have it!"

Harry nodded. "I know but we're going to tell them that it's in our room and that they won't be able to find it without you. By now McGee and Tony should be in our room, Gibbs would have realized we're missing."

"Great plan, except for one thing!" She said sarcastically.

"What?"

"When I leave they'll probably put a bullet in your brain Harry." The fact that this was the first time she'd called him Harry's to his faced was lost to him at the time.

Harry laughed it off. "I can handle Goldilocks."

"You're tied to a chair." She deadpanned.

"Details."

"No, we'll do-'

Harry interrupted her. "Do you have a better idea?" He asked. She was silent. "That's what I thought." He sighed. "Look, I'll be fine. Besides, me and the mook need a chat." He finished grimly.

Ziva was stopped from replying by the door opening. The leader and Goldilocks came back in. The waiter was absent.

"The disk." The leader said, blade in hand.

"Let him go, and then I'll tell you." Ziva said. He grabbed her by the chin, chuckling as he pressed the blade to her cheek bone.

"Mrs Rainier, you'll tell me either way."

"Get your hands off of my wife!" Harry shouted. "The disk's in our room.

"No, don- ack!" The leader wrapped his hand around Ziva's throat.

"Where?"

"You'll never find it without her. So, I'll say it again; get your filthy hands off of my wife!" Harry growled out the last part.

The leader stepped back and nodded at the jolly blonde giant. "Untie her."

A minute or so later and Ziva was hauled to her feet and pushed towards the door. "You know, your only mistake was going for one last big pay day, greed I suppose." The leader said, sounding thoughtful.

"I'm pregnant." Ziva snapped.

"Really? How far along?" He sounded surprised.

"Three months." She answered quietly.

"Boy or a girl?" He asked, soundly genuinely interested.

"We don't know." She said, looking at Harry. "We wanted it to be a surprise."

The leader chuckled. "That's the best way, trust me." He looked between them. "Morning sickness?"

Harry laughed quietly, leaning his head back. "Only every single morning."

The leader nodded. "I hated seeing my wife go through that, though it's all worth it in the end."

"So you aren't going to kill us?" Ziva asked.

The leader tutted. "We're assassins, you know I can't just walk away."

Harry chuckled. "So you are going to kill us."

The leader looked thoughtful. "I haven't decided yet, let's get that disk and see. We'll play it by ear." He raised a radio to his mouth. "Clear their room, we're coming up." He marched Ziva to the door before looking over his shoulder. "…If I'm not back in five minutes, kill him."

Harry shot Ziva a discreet wink just before she left.

"That was purely for your wife's cooperation." Goldilocks said, taking of his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

"I was really looking forward to being a father, you know?" Harry said with a sad smile. "I know it was silly, but that's really all I've ever wanted out of life." He looked up at the big man as he advanced on him with the blade. "Still, it was nice to pretend for a while."

"Pretend?" The man asked, confused.

"Yeah mate." Harry said, dropping the American accent. "Allow me to re-introduce myself; Harry James Potter, British secret intelligence, at your service." He spun around as he finished, breaking the chair on the blonde man and knocking him over.

He shrugged off the ropes as Goldilocks stood up. "You are Fucked sunshine." Harry said.

* * *

The assassin chucked a key card at Ziva's feet as they reached her room. "Open it." He said, nodding at the door.

She bent down and picked up the key card. She noticed a man, face down on the floor, as she opened to the door. She rushed over to him.

"I hope you weren't counting on your back up." The assassin chuckled.

"Get him." McGee whispered, his lips un moving.

Ziva smirked as she turned around. "He wasn't my back up."

"What?" The assassin asked in confusion as he looked around.

Gibbs stepped out from behind the door and smashed his fist into the assassin's temple, knocking him out cold. Ziva kicked off her heels and grabbed the assassin's gun as Tony and Fornell, an FBI senior field agent, stepped out of the bathroom where the waiter could be seen, tied up on the toilet.

"Room three-five-six, third floor." Ziva told Gibbs in a rush. He nodded.

"McGee, Fornell, stay here and watch these goons. Tony, Ziva, you're with me." He said quickly, heading out of the room and towards the lift.

Ziva followed him, Tony close behind as they piled into the lift.

They stacked up outside room 356 and Tony opened the door. Ziva stepped in, pistol raised and ready, quickly followed by Gibbs and Tony.

They all stopped when they found Harry stood in the middle of the room, cracking his nose back into place.

Tony was looking around the room in shock. There was the remains of two broken chairs in the centre, a ruddy big knife sticking out of one of the walls, a fist sized whole in the television, and a blonde man in a groaning heap on, what used to be, a table.

"This will never come out." Harry said idly, now looking at a large blood stain on the chest of his white v-neck.

Ziva holstered her stolen weapon and let out a relieved laugh. "That's okay." She said. "I've got something for that, the blood I mean."

"You would." Tony said, holstering his own firearm.

"Can we get out of here?" Harry asked. "I've got a bit of a headache and a powerful need for a glass of single malt." He finished with a sheepish smile.

Gibbs gave the room a quick once over and then raised his wrist, speaking into the microphone attached to his jacket sleeve. "Fornell, we've got another one down here. He's all yours." He lowered his arm and nodded towards the groaning man. "Cuff him Dinozzo."

"Yes boss." Tony cuffed the unresisting man-giant.

"The FBI's getting the credit for this one. So, the way I see it, they can run clean up. We're out of here.

Gibbs led the way out of the room, Tony close behind him. Ziva followed slowly, supporting a stumbling Harry. "Are you okay?" She asked, slipping an arm around his back under his shoulders.

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine. How about you?" He asked, looking at her bleeding lip.

Ziva snorted. "I'm fine." She said. "This is barely a scratch." She waved a hand at her mouth.

They all piled into the lift and headed towards the lobby to wait for a pick up.

"Good job Ziva" Gibbs said, looking at her lip as they left the lobby. "... you too Potter." He continued, surprising Harry.

"Um, thanks agent Gibbs." Harry said. Gibbs gave him a small nod but said no more.

McGee joined them a short while later. "The FBI's wrapping thing up inside boss." McGee began. "But they mentioned something about damage done to the Rainier room." He said, sending a questioning look to Ziva and Harry.

Harry laughed quietly. "We may have been a little... vigorous with our distraction." He said, smirking at Ziva. "We knocked some plaster off behind the head board."

Tony was looking at them curiously whilst McGee looked between the two of them in surprise; Gibbs was hiding a small smile.

"They were right." McGee breathed in shock.

"What was that Probie?" Tony asked.

"Huh? Oh, just something the FBI agents said." McGee muttered.

Hardy and Ziva shared a smirk as the NCIS van arrived, Ducky behind the wheel.

"This is us." Gibbs said. "Everyone pile in."

Everyone headed for the van as Harry threw a look at the hotel over his shoulder.

_'Merlin, I need a drink..."_

* * *

**A/N: **Right, I'd like to begin by saying that this would have been posted yesterday but the program I was using to write crashed when i tried to save and I lost the whole chapter. this is now slightly different to the original and i'm not entirely Happy with it, I think the characterisations are off. Anyway, it will have to do. Next Chapter we see Harry getting his own place and doing a few little side things for MI6. on that note, what do you all think Harry should be doing when he's not at NCIS. after all, since he's a consultant he certainly wont be there for aver case. as always; tell me what you thought. what you liked, what you didn't like, read and review. :)


	6. Chapter 5

The ride back to NCIS went by quite fast, all things considered. Ducky and Harry had been formally introduced, much to Ducky's pleasure. Tony had been full of questions about the operation and what the hell they'd done to distract the FBI team that included knocking chunks of plaster out of the wall. McGee had spent the journey back to NCIS in a state of stunned disbelief, splitting his time between staring at Harry and Staring at Ziva. For his part, Harry had spent the journey discussing current affairs in Britain with Ducky whilst leaning on Ziva for support. Gibbs had taken the wheel from Ducky when they had been picked up and had driven the way back. Ziva had entertained herself by occasionally poking Harry's still sore nose, much to his consternation.

When they'd arrived at NCIS, Ducky had led Harry, along with the others, to the bullpen for an examination of his head. He'd concluded that, by tomorrow, there would be some pretty obvious swelling but no permanent damage. He'd given Harry an ice pack, for his head, and some balled up cotton wool, for his nose, taken his blood spattered jumper, and left him on Ziva's desk.

Which was where he was currently sat, idly tapping his foot on the floor as everyone went about filling in after-action reports. At least that was one plus for being a consultant, no paperwork. All he really had to do now was make regular verbal reports to his handler, James, to show that he was actually doing something worth being paid for and not dossing about doing sweet Jack all. Which reminded him actually, he'd have to make a report tonight about the events of the last two days. He hadn't made any real progress on his objective but Ziva did seem to be becoming more comfortable discussing personal topics with him. Speaking of Ziva, the Israeli spy/assassin come NCIS agent was currently sat behind him, finishing off her own report of the events of the last two days. Harry absently wondered how detailed NCIS reports had to be. He wasn't quite sure what the look would be that crossed director Shepard's face when she read about _'dry humping in the line of duty'_ but he sure as hell wanted to be there to see it.

On some level, Harry felt badly about lying to the Israeli woman. The idea of getting close to someone in order to extract information from them had never sat well with him but he often rationalized it away by simply thinking of it as just another part of the job, which; to be honest, it was. This was different however; Harry wasn't sure why but something about this op just made him feel uneasy, like he was doing something morally wrong. He shook his head, and his thoughts, his job definitely dwelled in a morally grey area, there were no two ways about it. What Harry did for a living was often wrong; he lied to, stole from, cheated, and killed people. He never denied this, but he sometimes defended it. What he did, what all of MI6 did, protected people.

By navigating the tangled web if lies and deceit that made up the intelligence world, he saved lives. He also took them.

Harry was under no illusions, what he did would often be viewed as wrong by the public. He'd done his fair share of ops that had left him feeling cold inside but he'd also done things he was proud of. Harry had the feeling that this was one of the ops that would leave him cold.

Harry was interrupted from his thoughts by Ziva placing her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm done." She said. "Do you need to stay on my couch again?" She asked, turning off her Office PC.

Harry thought for a moment. He could get a motel room for the night rather than stay on Ziva's settee but given the choice was between a hygienically dubious motel room and a comfortable settee, Harry felt that the decision was quite easy.

"Please." He said, hopping off the desk. "I'll find somewhere more permanent tomorrow."

Ziva nodded and picked up her car keys from desk. "I'm off." She said to the room at large. "I'll see you all in the morning."

Gibbs and Tony waved their goodbyes, McGee had already left.

Harry followed Ziva out of the building and into her cherry red mini.

The drive to Ziva's apartment was quiet, neither really having anything to say at the time. Harry got the feeling that she was tired however, as her normally gut wrenching evasive driving style had calmed to a far more legal pace.

When they entered her apartment Ziva headed straight for the settee, sitting down with a happy sigh. Harry followed at a sedate pace, sitting on the next cushion over from her, next to his folded blanket from his first night in America. A stark contrast to the closeness from the last two days.

Harry checked his watch, 18:45, and looked towards Ziva. She was sat back on the settee, eyes closed, with her head lolled back and her hair spilling out around her.

After a moment or so Harry spoke. "Tired David?" He asked with a small grin.

"I'm always tired after work, even if I did nothing. And, unless they damaged your brain and you forgot, we did more than 'nothing' today." She said, rubbing her sore feet. "I hate heels." She growled.

Harry chuckled quietly to himself and leaned down to grasp her ankle, he gave a gentle tug and she slid around on the settee, ending up with her legs in his lap.

"What are you doing?" She asked, eyebrow raised.

Harry gave her a small smile and gently dug his thumbs into the soles of her feet, rubbing out the aches and pain.

"Oh, that's good." She gasped quietly.

"I used to do this for a friend of mine, when she started her first proper job, she was in heels all day, it used to murder her feet and she swore by this."

"A friend huh?" Ziva asked with a smirk, letting her head loll back.

"Yes, a very dear friend." Harry said with a chuckle, Hermione in fact. "She spent most her life in 'perfectly sensible shoes, thank you very much'." Harry said, pulling a funny voice. "So when she got an office job." At the ministry. "The heels were a bit of a shock to the system."

Ziva nodded absently, letting out another pleased gasp as Harry worked over a particularly sore spot.

After a while Harry released Ziva's feet and she slowly stood up, heading for the kitchen.

"I'm having a drink, would you like one?" She called over her shoulder.

Harry stood to join her. "Please." He nodded, entering her small kitchen area.

Ziva flicked the kettle on and handed him a mug before leaning against the counter.

"So, this friend of yours" she began, adding a scoop of coffee granules to her cup. "I take it you were close to her?" Ziva asked.

Harry smiled slightly to himself. "Yeah, we were." He sighed slightly. "We aren't as close anymore though, too many secrets really." He gave Ziva a look as he poured water into his mug. "You know how it is. You get a choice when you join MI6, you can tell one family member about it, significant other or a parent." Harry shrugged. "I don't have parents and I certainly don't have a 'significant other'."

Ziva nodded, Mossad had similar rules. "I know that can be hard." She said.

Harry continued. "Hermione doesn't know what I do for a living, that's her name by the way, she thinks I'm an auditor; traveling the world to count beans." Harry snorted. "She was so happy I outgrew my brief fascination with danger." Harry shook his head, taking a sip of his tea. "I dread to think how she would react if she knew what I really did."

Ziva grinned at him over the rim of her coffee cup before she quietly spoke, grin slipping away. "You said you don't have parents?" She asked.

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah, they died when I was one." He said quietly. "A car crash." It hurt, spreading the disingenuous lies of his relatives, but it was better than the alternative; the statute of secrecy still applied to him after all, talk about too many bloody secrets.

"I'm sorry." She said softly.

Harry grimaced slightly. "Don't worry about it, it was a long time ago, I've made my peace." The encounter with his parents spirits just before meeting Voldemort in the forest had helped far more than he had realised at the time, it had put a lot of worries to sleep.

Harry rolled his shoulders and placed his cup on the counter. "I grew up with my aunt and uncle in a little town in Surrey along with my cousin." Harry's eyes darted to the floor. "... It wasn't a good time. I haven't seen my aunt and uncle since I was seventeen, I see my cousin occasionally on the off chance that we bump into each other."

Ziva took another sip of coffee, watching Harry closely.

"I dossed around for two years, trying to discover who I was. Eventually I decided to apply for university, I figured why not? I needed a job and I wanted excitement. At some point during my course I caught the eye of one of MI6's covert recruitment agents. Whoever they were, they sent my name to the office and I got a job offer when I finished university."

Harry grinned at Ziva. "It took me about half a second to accept, my name was on the dotted line so fast I almost tore the paper." Harry picked up his tea and took a sip.

"What about you?" He asked curiously, looking at Ziva. "What was your life like before Mossad?" Harry finished carefully.

Ziva shrugged, though she wasn't meeting his eyes. "What's to know? I grew up in Israel, my parents separated, I did my two years of national service and then Volunteered for Mossad."

Harry rolled his eyes and placed his, now empty, cup on the side. "Ziva." He said, catching her eye.

"What?" She asked, her voice challenging.

Harry gave her a long look. "Don't be evasive. If you don't want to talk about it then that's fine, but don't insult my intelligence."

Ziva was silent for a long moment before she spoke. "I had a sister, he name was Talia, and we grew up in Be'er Sheba. My mother left my father when I was nine and took myself and my sister with her, my parents eventually divorced when I was thirteen because my father was sleeping with another woman; a Mossad agent." Ziva was looking straight at the floor, talking quickly.

"When I was eighteen I joined the IDF for my two year national service." A ghost of a smiled flitted over her face. "I met a lot of new people and made a lot of friends... a lot of them are dead now, living in a semi-active warzone will do that." Her voice was bitter and Harry could see the barest of tremors shake her shoulders.

"When I was twenty my sister was killed in a Hamas suicide bombing, she was sixteen." She swallowed thickly and Harry placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Ziva, I'm sor-" He began but Ziva silenced him with a hand wave.

"Let me finish or I never will." She said quietly. "You asked me before the Rainier op why I joined Mossad." She looked up at him, staring him dead in the eyes. "At the time it was out of vengeance. My sister had been just been taken from me and I thought joining Mossad would give me the most chance of finding them." Her voice was hard but her eyes were filling with un-shed tears. Harry slowly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. She kept talking.

"I never found them. I did things for Mossad that made me feel sick, I killed people, tortured them." She whispered. "I've seen things and done things that would make mothers weep for their children but I did them for Israel, for my people." Her voice was still strong but her shoulders were now visibly shaking.

"A friend of mine, another Mossad agent, was taken captive by a Hamas cell in Ramallah. They sent his head back to us on the overnight express." Ziva took a deep breath and stepped back from Harry, angrily wiping her eyes.

"I hated them." She said, talking about Hamas. "They killed my people, they killed my friends, they killed my sister." She braced her hands on the counter. "I started to view them as less than human, as just another pest to put down."

Harry swallowed. That was... not good. Nothing pleasant ever came from thinking like that. He looked at Ziva in concern. She kept talking, her voice distant.

"Eventually my father re-assigned me." She snorted. "Probably the nicest thing he's ever done for me." She paused for a moment. "I met Jenny in Cairo, she managed to pound some sense into my skull after a while and I evened out again. We kept in contact after that." A small smile found its way to her lips. "I owe a lot to Jenny."

Harry slowly grasped her hand and slowly led her to the settee. She gave him a questioning look. "Come one." He said, sitting down with his back to the arm of the sofa. "Tell me something happy about your childhood?" He asked, pulling her down to the settee; so her back was against her chest and she was sat between his legs.

She turned her head back to look at him. "Why are you doing this."

Harry shrugged and wrapped his arms around her stomach. "I want to know." Harry said, trying to draw her attention away from the last few minutes and into a happier place.

Ziva thought for a moment. "My mother taught me to drive." She said with a small smile. "She got me interested in ballet, she let me take lessons." Ziva laid her head back on Harry's shoulder. "I used to annoy her so much." She said with a small laugh. "She wanted me to like girly things and I was always more interested in playing battleships and messing around with action figures."

Harry shook his head with a chuckle. "Why am I not surprised?" He asked rhetorically.

Ziva continued. "She used to make me hot chocolate when I was sad. She was always so soft with everyone but she had a violent side." Ziva said, lost in her memories. "I remember when I had my first boyfriend." She looked at Harry and her hair tickled his neck. "Just one of those silly things when you were kid, I was fourteen I think." She laughed softly. "My mother told him that she'd hang him from the ceiling by his testicles if he ever did something I didn't like." Ziva smiled. "He avoided me at school after that, my mother had terrified him."

Harry gave her a small grin, glad to see the dark mood from earlier evaporating.

"She sounds like a great woman." Harry said, absently moving his hand in small circles on her stomach.

"She was." Ziva answered with a sad smile.

"What happened to her, if you don't mind me asking?" Harry said cautiously.

"She passed away, about two years ago." Ziva said quietly. "A terminal illness."

"I'm sorry." Harry said.

Ziva shifted slightly. "Don't worry about it, it doesn't hurt anymore. I just miss her now."

Harry nodded slightly and they drifted into a comfortable silence. After a moment Harry closed his eyes and leant his head back against the armrest of the settee.

* * *

When Harry woke up four hours later to the sound of rapturous snoring interspersed with the odd shuffling noise he raised his aching neck to look around the dark room.

It was empty but for himself and Ziva, who had moved in her sleep and was now lying face down, sprawled across his chest with one arm hanging off the settee to the floor and the other clutching his t-shirt. There was the snoring, now for the shuffling.

Ziva shifted in her sleep and Harry discovered the source of the shuffling. Ziva was occasionally nuzzling his chest in her sleep, causing her thick hair to brush against the stubble on his jaw. He should probably shave that.

Harry began to gently shake Ziva's shoulder. "Ziva." He whispered. "Ziva, wake up."

She slowly raised her head, her face inches from his own, and spoke. "If I get up, I'm going to my bed and you're staying on the couch." She said tiredly, looking at him with bleary eyes.

Harry nodded slightly, he really should have simply got her up but... this was kinda nice. He felt almost guilty to admit it, but he was lonely and the physical closeness was tempting. He placed one hand on the armrest and pushed, shifting both himself and Ziva down the settee to give him some head room. Ziva's head went back to his chest.

"That'z whut I thought." She mumbled, halfway back to sleep.

Harry smiled slightly and reached out his leg, sliding his foot beneath the folded blanket. He sent the blanket into the air with a slight kick and caught it as it headed for his torso, throwing it over the both of them, Harry closed his eyes.

* * *

The next time Harry awoke he checked his watch, 07:45, and looked around the room. He'd slept late, really late. Harry never slept late. Ziva was still curled up on stop of him, snoring away, with her arms now wrapped around his torso. There was a knock at Ziva's door.

"Ziva!" A voice called through the door. "You in there?"

_'Tony.'_ Harry thought to himself. He gave Ziva a slight shake.

"Ziva. Ziva, Tony's at the door." He said, brushing her thick hair from her forehead. She blearily cracked one eye open and looked up at hhim from his chest.

"What time is it?" She asked in a scratchy voice.

"Ziva! Hello, anyone home?" Tony called again.

"What's Tony doing here?" She asked herself in confusion.

"It's quarter to eight in the morning." Harry told her with a sheepish smile. Her eyes widened.

"Shit!" She jumped up from the settee and rushed to the door, calling out to Tony as she went. "One moment!" She ran a hand through her hair and answered the door.

"Ziva" Tony said in surprise, looking her over. "Where've you been? Gibbs has been calling you."

"I'm sorry Tony, I over slept."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You never over sleep?" He questioned as he caught sight of Harry over her shoulder. Harry gave him a cheeky wave. "Oh." Tony said with a smirk. "I understand."

Ziva looked behind her to see Harry sorting out the settee. She glared at Tony. "No Dinozzo, you don't." She shook her head. "Just get in here." She said, stepping away from the door. "I'm going to go get ready and you can give me a lift to work."

Tony stepped into Ziva's apartment, looking over the furniture and settling his eyes on Harry, as Ziva walked off to her bedroom.

"So, you and David eh?" He asked as the British agent stripped off his t-shirt and pulled another from his suitcase.

Harry looked over his shoulder as he pulled a grey v-neck on. Tony's face was joking but there was the barest hint of something else in his eyes.

"It's not what you think Tony. We just crashed on the settee last night."

Tony nodded, smirking. "And two highly trained international spies, not just one but both of you, managed to over sleep so much as to be late for work?" Tony shook his head. "Just seems a little unlikely, is all."

Harry shrugged as he heard Ziva leave her bedroom and enter the bathroom. "We're still human, we get tired like everyone else."

"So nothing else happened last night? You just fell asleep?" Tony didn't seem to believe him.

Harry chuckled. "What do you want me to say Dinozzo? That we had lots of hot, crazy, monkey sex last night? I mean I could, I could probably even make it entirely believable, it wouldn't make it true though." Harry finished with a shrug, sitting back down on the settee.

Tony unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down as well before he spoke. "So what is going on between you two then? Ziva isn't usually this... friendly." He asked.

Harry shrugged again. "We're similar people; who do similar jobs for similar organizations. We get along because of that, we know exactly where the other stands and we know what lines can and can't be crossed." Harry rolled his shoulders. "It makes talking easy. We both come from worlds where secrets are the largest commodity going, and those secrets are usually bought with blood. We understand each other." Harry looked at Tony. "That's all there is to it."

Tony nodded thoughtfully. "What about the Rainier case, you two seemed a little bit closer than 'just friends'." Tony said. "I understand you two were acting but you really sold it, you can't do that without at least a little truth."

Harry outright laughed. "What? Because we did a little clothed bump'n'grind?" Harry shook his head with a smile. "I assume you know what a honey trap is?" He asked.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, sleeping with an enemy agent to get information or blackmail material."

Harry waved his hand. "You don't always have to sleep with them but yeah, that's essentially it." Harry looked at Tony with a smile. "You don't need the details, but trust me when I say that the Rainier op was pretty tame, I'm sure Ziva would say the same."

Tony gave him a sideways look. "So you have a lot of experience with Honey Traps, do you?"

Harry smirked at him. "Ask me again when your security clearance is higher Tony."

Dinozzo looked at him in surprise. "I'm a senior field agent for the federal government."

Harry nodded. "That you are, and your secrets would probably cause mass panic and riots if they got out." Harry looked him in the eye. "My secrets would topple governments and change the world order." Harry internally chuckled. That was just the muggle secrets, never mind the whole magic thing.

"We're on completely different levels mate." Harry said and Tony's face twisted. "I'm not saying that to be a dick, I'm simply saying it how it is." Harry shrugged. "You solve crimes for a living, I commit international espionage."

Tony gave him a look. "For someone who's trying to not be a dick, you're not doing a very good job."

Harry chuckled. "You know what I mean mate, I'm just trying to explain why I can't tell you certain things. Listen Tony, you're a good bloke." Harry began; Tony interrupted him by throwing his hands up.

"Whoa! Okay look, I know you spy types are flexible and I'm flattered, really I am." Tony started. "But I don't swing that way." He started to stutter. "A-and its fine that you do and all b-but I don't and I'm sorry."

Harry looked at him for a moment before breaking out into raucous laughter.

"That isn't what I was going to say Tony." Harry laughed out. "I was just going say that I hope we can be friends." He finished, still chuckling.

Tony reddened slightly. "Oh. Well okay then." He was staring straight ahead. "This never happened."

Harry snorted. "Of course mate." Tony nodded firmly and stuck his hand out. Harry shook it.

They sat in silence for a moment until Ziva came back into the room, dressed for the day in; a pair of tan cargo trousers, a black vest top, and an unbuttoned white blouse. Her hair was up in a loose pony tail and she had her boots in one hand.

She looked between the two of them curiously. "What's gong on in here?" She asked. Harry was grinning broadly and Tony was staring dead ahead, slightly red.

"Nothing." They both said at the same time, Harry with a grin, Tony with a tight smile.

"Right." She said, slowly. "Anyway, I'm ready now. We should be off."

Tony nodded and stood up. Harry followed, grabbing his suitcase as he went.

Ziva and Tony climbed into Tony's car and Harry handed a piece of paper through the Driver's side window to Tony. "Ziva's got my number for emergencies but it's on that paper as well." Harry said. "Give me a call when you're free, we'll go get a drink."

Tony nodded and stuffed the paper into his pocket. Ziva raised an eyebrow.

"Something I should know?" She asked.

Harry grinned as Tony hit the ignition. "Tony's bi curious, so I said I'd take him out for drinks." Harry chuckled as Tony swore. "You know, because we spy types are flexible and all."

"God damn it Potter!" Tony shouted as Harry broke into laughter, walking off.

Harry saw Tony and Ziva drive off, Ziva laughing and Tony speaking fast.

He chuckled or himself and pulled out his cryptophone, walking down the street as he held the speed dial for James.

"Authenticate." The synthesized voice ordered.

"One-one-zero-nine-two-eight-eight-nine."

"You're late agent, report." James said.

"Things are proceeding slowly." Harry said quietly, weaving through the crowded street. "I haven't found out anything we don't already know about the man, except he may have a weakness for women. His wife left him for his indiscretions. It's a possible angle."

"Noted agent, anything else?"

"Nothing we didn't already know. I got the feeling he was cold and distant as a father, very job focused. Beyond that I have nothing." Harry said. "I'm searching for accommodation now."

"We've got that covered, it was sorted out whilst you were assisting with that Rainier business." James rattled off the address. Its things like this that make James a great handler, Harry thought as he memorized the address.

"We've got a Job for you, a favour for the septics. You'll get all the information later, for now go and get your lodgings sorted."

"Understood, out." Harry hung up the phone, flagging down a Taxi and wondering what the Job could be.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later the taxi pulled up next to a tall block of flats, Harry paid the driver and stepped into the building.

Harry walked to his flat on the third floor and found the key, hidden in a whole in the side of the door frame.

Stepping into the flat, he took a few minutes to thoroughly inspect the place.

It was rather Spartan, nothing personal, and painted a simple light blue. It was comprised of a single living room separated from the small kitchen by a half wall and a single bedroom with an en suite bathroom. Harry nodded to himself, it would do just fine.

Harry set about emptying his suitcase in the bedroom. His clothes went into the wardrobe, his Webley went onto the bedside table and the bag full of .455 cartridges with the undetectable extension charm went into the top draw.

_'I'll need to get more clothes if I'm going to be staying here any length of time.'_

Harry took his cryptophone phone from pocket and went into the living room, sitting in the chair by the rolltop desk in the corner.

Harry went through the authentication procedure and waited a beat to be re-routed to James.

"Report agent."

"I'm all sorted, what's this job?" Harry asked.

"In the living room, there's a roll top desk, in the desk there's a laptop. Boot it up and open the file on the desktop named Andreyev."

Harry did as he was bade and opened up the file. A man in his early fifties stared back at him from the screen, his eye where cold and his smile was more of a grimace really.

"This is Grigori Andreyev, ex Russian KGB responsible for the deaths of nineteen CIA agents during the Cold War."

Harry nodded to himself. "And he's our problem how?" He asked.

"The Americans had something we wanted. They agreed to give it to us in exchange for getting rid of this guy, they don't want it to look like a revenge killing. That shit looks bad on the world stage." James paused for a moment. "Look mate, I won't lie to you, this is a straight up assassination. There's no fact finding and no observation. The Americans just want this guy dead, and they want us to do it in a way that doesn't tie back to them."

Harry grimaced; this was most certainly not the best part of the job.

James continued. "I know how you feel about this sort of bollocks and I'm sorry, but it's part of the job and you're the only operative in the area."

Harry sighed. "Understood. Continue."

"Crazy Russian has gotten paranoid in the last few years, and I don't blame him, he's taken to living on his boat, which he's got moored in the Potomac. His last known mooring is in his file. I want this to be quick and clean agent, no fucking about. You'll be radio silent from now until its complete, report back when you're done."

"I understand."

"Good. You'll find the equipment you need under a loose floor board in the bedroom and there's a car in your parking space outside. Good luck agent, and remember to tidy up after yourself."

"I will, out." Harry dragged a hand over his face and sighed before heading to the bedroom to find the loose floorboard.

After a moment or two of searching he found it, and pulled a dry bag from the space beneath.

The bag contained; a suppressor for his SIG, a large box of .357 SIG rounds, a small limpet mine, a pair of diving goggles and a mouth piece with two small canisters of air attached to it. There was a tag on one of the canisters.

_'Fifteen minutes, don't be a tit and drown. _

_-James'_

Harry chuckled to himself and headed out of his flat towards his new car, he needed a wet suit.

Four hours later Harry was sat back at the roll top desk in his flat, going over the Andreyev file. Harry now had everything he needed and would be commencing his op come nightfall. Grigori Andreyev... was not a good man, he made some of the things Harry had done for MI6 seem like wholesome family activities. The crimes the man had committed during the Cold War were chilling, this made Harry feel slightly better about eliminating the man - though not by much. This was not a part of the job that Harry enjoyed. When he first joined MI6 he didn't really believe he'd ever have to kill anyone, this belief was soon beaten out of him.

Now days, Harry regarded killing people in the line of work as just another, if tragic, part of the job. A part of the job he carried out with tired professionalism.

He rubbed a hand over his face and checked his watch, 13:30. He had about three and a half hours until sunset. He'd hit Andreyev three hours after that.

Harry headed into the bedroom to think, and perhaps have a short nap.

* * *

By seven o'clock in the evening Harry was heading to his car, dry bag in one hand and the wet suit in his other, slung over his shoulder.

He popped the boot and placed both the dry bag and the wet suit in the car, anyone watching would think he was going for a night time paddle. He climbed into the driver's seat and drove away.

He reached Andreyev's last known location by quarter to eight and killed the engine. There, in the middle of the river, was Andreyev's boat, a little livaboard boat - maybe twenty five feet long.

Harry looked out the window, it was pitch black outside and he couldn't see anyone about. He stepped out into the cold November night and headed for the boot.

Quickly stripping down, Harry pulled on the wet suit with a little difficulty and attached the limpet mine to his abdomen via its carry plate. He screwed the suppressor to his SIG and dropped the gun into a water-tight bag along with a magazine.

Harry pulled the shoe lace from one of his shoes and tied the bag to his ankle; put on his goggles, grabbed his mouth piece, and waded into the water.

Harry could see light coming from the port holes on the side of Andreyev's boat as he approached and dived beneath the surface. A few moments later and he had attached the limpet mine to the bottom of the vessel, he set the timer for ten minutes and quietly climbed aboard.

Harry quietly crouched by the door to the inside of the boat and held his breath, listening to see if he'd been discovered. He hadn't been.

_"Homenum Revelio."_ Harry whispered, waving his hand slightly. There was a light pink glow from inside the boat. Wandless magic, whilst difficult to master and useful in a pinch, was rather impotent compared to wand cast magic. That's why most wizards or witches never bothered to learn the control necessary for it, Harry however found it quite useful on occasion - seeing as he hadn't touched his wand in almost a year and a half.

Harry undid the bag, took his SIG, loaded it, and racked the slide as quietly as he could before he took a deep breath. Andreyev was just behind the small door, in the tiny living space the boat offered.

Harry put his back to the wall of the boat and placed his left hand on the door.

_"Confringo."_ He whispered. The door was blown from its hinges with a bang and Harry span through the entry way, SIG raised and braced, moments afterwards.

A bottle smashed next to Harry's head as he entered, one last act of defiance, courtesy of Grigori Andreyev before he took two .357 SIG rounds to the heart. Harry put another round in Andreyev's head, just to make sure, and then left the way he came.

Minutes later a muted thud sounded as Harry was stripping off the wet suit by his car. The limpet mine had just gone off; Andreyev's boat, his corpse, and the evidence were slowly sinking into the Potomac.

Harry shook his head as he pulled his clothes back on. This was definitely not a part of the job that he enjoyed. He closed the boot and climbed into the car, pulling out his phone as he went.

He went through the Authentication procedure as he pulled away and waited to be put through to James.

"Report agent." He said.

"It's done." Harry replied.

"Good, the septics will be pleased at least. Proceed with your main objective agent. Your next report is due two days from now."

"Understood, out." Harry hung up and placed the phone in his pocket as he drove towards his flat.

_'Well... that was unpleasant.'_

* * *

**A/N: **So, what do you all think? drop a review and tell me. Have a good day. :)

PS: for anyone who's curious, you can find the lay out of Andreyev's boat by typing "small houseboat" into google images. it's the first one that looks like it was drawn in MS Paint.


	7. Chapter 6

**Average Chapter 6**

Harry accomplished little in the weeks following the death of Grigori Andreyev. Besides offering moral support to Tony when he was wrongfully accused of murder, Harry did pretty much nothing. Sure, he went out for drinks with Tony a few times and he dropped by Ziva's flat once or twice to talk over tea but beyond that, nothing important. NCIS had no cases that required him to take part and he learnt nothing new about Eli David.

Nothing MI6 would find important at least, he learnt plenty about what kind of father he was however. Harry couldn't say he was impressed to be honest. The man was a superb agent apparently, cold, calculating, and incredibly loyal. Israel was lucky to have him, Ziva... Not so much.

Through his occasional tea visits with Ziva, Harry had learnt that Eli David was hardly in the running for the father of the year award. Cold and dispassionate throughout her Childhood, Eli had raised his daughter with a firm hand. Always pushing her towards what he viewed as the important things in life, regardless of her own happiness.

Harry couldn't help but draw parallels with his own childhood. Whilst he was _almost _sure her father had never locked her in cupboard, she had told him that one of her earliest memories was being led into a forest, blindfolded, with her sister and then being left there to find her own way out. This had not endeared the elder David to Harry very much.

Beyond that however, Harry hadn't learnt anything about Eli David that could be reliably used against him, should the need arise. That was his objective after all, collecting information that could be used in the international game of chess that made up the spy world. And really, that's what it was. One great big game of three-dimensional chess, with forty odd players. When the major, and minor, intelligence agencies weren't collecting data on world threats they were busy spying on each other, always trying to advance themselves to a stronger position. Some were better at it than others of course, the only true major players left in the game were the CIA, MI6, GRU, SVR, ISI, Mossad, and ASIS. Everyone else had been brushed aside and been left behind by the other agencies, relegated to positions of little consequence on the world stage.

Turning his thoughts from the convoluted world he now inhabited, Harry focused on the drink in front of him - and the bar around him.

Harry was currently sat at the corner of the bar in Tony's favourite 'sports bar', waiting for Tony to arrive for their, now fortnightly, drinks night.

It was... Different. Harry was used to Pubs, and this? This was definitely not a Pub. Rather than the darkly carpeted floors and pleasantly rustic environment of the classical English Pub, Tony's favourite sports bar had bare, light wood, flooring polished to a high shine with lots of red, faux leather, seats and T.V screens covering almost every spare inch of wall space.

It wasn't bad, just different. And loud.

Harry sat, quietly sipping his scotch, watching the other patrons as they moved around, ordered drinks, and watched the Steelers vs Vikings game.

He checked his watch, 19:23, Tony would be arriving soon. Harry wondered how his newest friend's day had been, he'd seen the earlier news report about a death at Quantico involving some super model or other during the filming of something called 'Boot camp Babes'. Harry shook his head with a small smile. Boot camp babes? Really? Anything for entertainment these day, eh?

Harry finished his drink and waved the bartender over, ordering another.

Just as Harry's drink was placed in front of him, the door to the bar opened and Tony walked in.

Harry raised his glass and Tony nodded, heading for the empty bar stool at Harry's side.

"Evenin' mate." Harry said as Tony sat. "How was Quantico?"

Tony ordered a beer and looked at Harry. "You know about that?" He asked.

Harry shrugged. "It was on the news mate, educated guess that you'd be there."

Tony nodded, slowly drinking his beer. "Yeah, it's a mess alright. Someone gave that girl a fist full of PCP." Tony said quietly. "She started trippin' balls, rushed into a barbed wire fence, had a seizure, fell into a coma, and died."

Harry let out a low whistle as he sipped his scotch. "Hell of a way to go." Harry said quietly.

Tony nodded. "Tell me about it."

Harry looked at him curiously. "Any leads?"

Tony grimaced. "You know I'm not allowed to talk about ongoing cases Harry."

Harry snorted. "Tony, I've got access to case files - remember?" He said, looking at Tony. "I could just go to NCIS tomorrow and look through them. There's no problem telling me about it."

Tony tilted his head to the side and nodded after a moment. "I suppose you're right. At the moment, no. We only discovered the body and cause of death today. We'll know more tomorrow, when we've finished trawling through her records." Tony shrugged. "Could've just been suicide at this point."

Harry nodded slightly. "Is that likely?" He asked

Tony shrugged again, finishing his beer. "It could be, I don't know. NCIS investigates all potential suicides as murders though, until it can be proven one way or the other."

Harry nodded once more. "Fair enough, I might swing by the office tomorrow."

Tony shot him a funny look. "Why? This isn't exactly spy game stuff."

Harry chuckled. "I'm bored mate. I've spent the last three years flying all over the world, doing something different almost every two weeks. I've been in America for almost a month and a half now, doing jack all. I'm climbing the walls at my place, I need to get out and do something."

"Fair enough I guess." Tony looked at him sideways. "Was it really every two weeks?"

"More or less, when it was busy."

"What sort of things were you doing?" Tony asked with a grin.

Harry just smiled and sipped his whisky.

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke before sunrise. He got up, showered, got dressed, and ready for the day. After a light breakfast and a cup of tea Harry cleaned his SIG, grabbed three spare magazines, and headed for his car.

He ended up leaving his flat at around five forty-five. He was outside Ziva's silver spring apartment at six o'five. He pulled up in front of her cherry red mini, got out of his car, and leant against his car bonnet. Five minutes later Ziva came out of her building, hair in a messy bun, dressed in jeans and a warm looking jacket.

She looked at him in surprise as she drew nearer. "Harry? What are you doing here?" She asked.

Harry shrugged. "I'm bored, figured I'd swing by NCIS. So I dropped by this morning to give you a lift to work, you can fill me in about the Quantico case on the way."

Ziva tilted her head and gave him an odd look. "Uh huh, you came to drive me to work because you wanted me to fill you in on a case?" She asked, getting into the car.

Harry gave her a grin as he slipped in behind the wheel. "That, and I missed your dazzling personality."

Ziva let out a soft laugh as Harry drove away.

The drive to NCIS was pleasant, Harry learned nothing that Tony hadn't already told him but the company was nice.

Harry pulled up in the NCIS car park at about six forty-five, left the car, and entered the building with Ziva.

"So, Boot camp Babes eh?" Harry asked with a chuckle, leaning against Ziva's desk as she booted her work terminal.

Ziva snorted. "A ridiculous idea." She said, rolling her eyes. "Does your country have anything similar to this?" She asked.

Harry shrugged. "I rarely watch T.V but I've heard of something similar I suppose. 'Bad lads Army' or something like that. They get a bunch of petty criminals and put them through national service training from the fifties." Harry chuckled. "Less bikinis, more beastings." Harry looked at her. "How about you? Does Israel do anything like this?"

Ziva shook her head. "I do not think so, I haven't heard about anything like this."

Harry shrugged. "Tony seems to like it though." He said with a chuckle.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I think it's the bikinis that does it."

Harry grinned at her. "What? You don't think that he's honestly interested if US Marine training can benefit super models?"

Ziva just gave him a look.

Harry rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah you're right, it's probably the bikinis."

Ziva chuckled, getting back to work. Shortly afterwards Gibbs showed up to the bullpen, coffee in hand, he raised an eyebrow at Harry but was quickly ushered into the director's office. Tony and McGee showed up a short while later, both going to their desks.

The bullpen was quiet for about twenty minutes as the NCIS agents did... whatever it is they did when Gibbs wasn't around. Harry entertained himself by idly looking around the room and assessing security weaknesses, biggest one? The freaking huge windows, then the sky light.

After a moment, Tony started flapping his arms around. "There I am! Look I'm on T.V." he said with a grin. Ziva stood and went to stand behind him, watching whatever Tony was looking at.

"Here look, here I come. That's my Jacket!" He said with a grin. A beat later and Ziva let out a snort.

"Ooh, that's McGee's Jacket." She said with a laugh, tweaking Tony's ear.

"Damn it." He said, standing from his desk. "I didn't make a single broadcast."

"I wish I could say the same, the camera must have added ten pounds to me." McGee said, looking between the screen and his belt line.

Tony grinned. "Nope, that was your refrigerator probie."

Harry snorted and McGee shot him a glare, discreetly eyeing his belt line again.

"So" Tony began. "Anyone think Gibbs saw the news last night?" He asked.

Ziva shrugged. "I don't know but director Shepard did, Gibbs has been in her office for the last half an hour."

Tony nodded before Grinning again. "Does anyone else think Gibbs and the director were more than just partners back in the day?" He asked, swinging his hips and clicking. He didn't see Gibbs coming up behind him.

Ziva and McGee both started to look around the room and Harry grinned to himself.

_'Walked right into that one mate.'_

Tony suddenly stiffened and went silent for a moment. "Morning boss." He said quickly. "We were just talking about kagney and lacey, it's a great sho-" He was interrupted by a head slap.

"Sorry boss."

"What do we got?" Gibbs 'asked', moving to his desk.

"Taylor Shane checked into the Los Angeles 'better health centre' in August of o'two and then again in May of o'three." Ziva said.

Tony took over. "Her publicist said it was an eating disorder but the truth is it was heroin, cocaine, and -"

"PCP." Gibbs finished.

"Bingo boss." Tony said with a nod.

"Her friends have given several interviews over the years; they all blame her drug problem mostly on the boyfriend." McGee turned on the plasma, showing a picture of a bloke in his mid-twenties. "Noah Keller, son of Marshal Keller."

"Whoa." Tony said, moving closer to the screen. "That guy owns half of Manhattan, his kids are loaded too."

McGee nodded as Harry watched. "Yeah, well this kid's been busted three times in the last five years for illegal narcotics possession, twice for cocaine once for PCP."

"Find him." Gibbs said, rummaging through his desk.

"On it boss." McGee said, moving back to his own desk.

"Did that executive show guy, Crawley, get back last night?" Gibbs continued.

"I believe the term is 'executive producer', Gibbs."

"Whatever, interview him." Gibbs said, heading off. "I want to know how this girl did a fist full of PCP in the middle of his reality show. "Potter, go with Ziva and Dinozzo, do whatever it is you do but you listen to Dinozzo, understand?"

"Understood Gibbs." Harry said, jumping off of Ziva's desk.

Harry followed as Tony and Ziva walked towards the lift.

"That guy dates super models?" Tony exclaimed, pointing at the screen. "There's no justice in the world."

Ziva shrugged. "He's wealthy, they're shallow, and it's a perfect match."

"It happens all the time mate." Harry said, clapping Tony on the shoulder. "That's why I like MI6, anonymity."

Ziva gave him a sideways look as they entered the lift. "I assume you come from money then?"

Harry shrugged. "My parents were quite wealthy; I came into it at eighteen." Well, seventeen but oh well. Harry had about four-hundred thousand Galleons sat in Gringotts at the moment, the lifetime savings of the entire Potter line. About two million pound sterling at the current conversion rate.

"I haven't really touched it to be honest, I paid for university and I've been living off of my MI6 salary since then. It was a bit of a pain in the arse from eighteen to twenty though, seemed like every bird with a pair of breasts was trying to get on me for a while."

Tony shook his head as the lift descended. "Lucky bastard." Harry chuckled.

Ziva gave him a funny look. "Is your family not wealthy also Tony?"

Tony shrugged. "My dad cut me off when I was twelve; I had to earn all my dates the old fashioned way."

"What, begging?" Ziva smirked as Tony glared at her.

* * *

The drive to Quantico was over quite fast, including the brief stop for Ziva to pick up a 'Berry Mango Madness' slushy.

They were waved through security and past the guard-house after showing their ID, a few minutes later and they were walking into the Blocks used for the 'Boot camp Babes' filming.

As Harry stepped through the door he saw one of the models talking with a Marine.

"Get outta ma sight." He growled, looking towards the agents in the doorway. "I'll see you at the pull up bars."

The model left with a snarky salute. "With pleasure." She brushed past Harry out of the room, Tony's eyes following her hips.

"Bad time, Staff Sergeant?" Ziva asked, sucking on her straw.

"No ma'am." The Marine said, straightening up. "Just counting the days until this reality show is off my base."

Harry nodded, he could understand that.

"We need to talk to Thomas Crawley?" Tony said, his inflection making it a question.

"So do I sir, he's asked not to be disturbed." The Marine said.

"A girl died from a drug overdose whilst taping the show, disturbing him is not our primary concern." Ziva said with a small tilt of her head.

"Taylor overdosed?" The Marine asked in surprise. "On what?"

"PCP." Harry said, joining the conversation. "A hell of a lot of it."

"That's why she tried to climb that fence, because she was on drugs?" The Marine asked, clenching his hat and looking between the three of them.

Tony nodded slowly. "She was most likely delusional."

"Any idea where she got the drugs Staff Sergeant?" Harry asked.

The Marine raised his eyebrows at the accent but shook his head in the negative. "No sir. I know she had some problems in the past but if anything she was anti-drugs, hell, she wouldn't even take an aspirin."

Tony looked at him for a moment before nodding. "Where's Crawley Staff Sergeant?"

"Just outside that door." The Marine said, pointing behind Ziva.

"Thanks for your time soldier." Harry said, following Tony and Ziva into the indicated office.

Harry saw and elder man, holding a photo, as he entered the room. He was sat behind a small desk, a single tear running down his cheek.

"Mr Crawley?" Tony said. No response. Harry looked at Ziva for a moment before tilting his head towards the man. Ziva nodded and Harry stepped forward.

"Mr Crawley." He said, slightly louder than Tony had. "We'd like to ask you a few questions." He said as the man turned to him in surprise.

"Oh, yes, of course. Please, take a seat." He said, his voice a little croaky. "I was just thinking of my daughter, her death was..." He trailed off, out of words to say.

"Taylor Shane was your daughter?" Tony asked in surprise, taking a seat besides Ziva. Harry stood behind the two of them.

"Yes." The man nodded, somewhat distractedly. "I became her legal guardian when she was fifteen; we've been through a lot together."

"Did you know that Taylor had a drug habit?" Ziva asked, straight to the point.

Crawley nodded. "Yes but she's been clean and sober for the last two years now."

Harry slowly shook his head. "She OD'ed on PCP sir."

Crawley looked between the three of them in surprise before shaking his head. "There's no way, she wouldn't put herself through that again." He said in disbelief.

"Statistically, addicts fall back in times of stress." Ziva said, holding her hand up to stall any arguments.

"Meaning Marine boot camp probably wasn't a good idea." Tony said softly.

Crawley stood up, placing his hands on the desk. "This entire reality series was her idea." He said loudly. "She loved it here, I've never seen her happier."

"How did she get the drugs then?" Ziva asked.

"She didn't!" Crawley shot back fiercely. "The whole idea of this series was to show people that she wasn't that girl anymore!"

Ziva sighed through her nose. "Well I'd say it back fired, large time."

"It's big time Ziva, big time." Harry whispered, bending at the waist to talk into her ear.

Crawley wasn't paying attention though; he was looking out of the window to the Cameras and the two remaining models. He suddenly shot off, heading for the door.

Harry looked up in surprise and followed him out at a slight distance, Ziva and Tony in tow.

They strode across the grass behind Crawley as he headed for the pull up bars and Harry felt himself feeling slightly uncomfortable as he followed. Never a good idea to walk across the grass on a military base.

As they drew nearer, Harry could hear the Staff Sergeant ripping into one of the models about using the word can't. He smiled slightly as he thought of his grizzled old training officer.

"Get those cameras out of here!" Crawley shouted, waving away the camera men as he got closer. "Was he here!?" He demanded, looking between the two models. They didn't speak.

"Answer me Hannah!" He said, grabbing one by the arm. The Staff Sergeant pulled him back slightly.

"You're hurting her arm sir." He said calmly.

Crawley shook the Marine off. "My daughter is dead Staff Sergeant, I'll do a damn site more if i don't get answers!"

Harry stepped forward with his hands raised in appeasement. "Alright, calm yourselves people. Was who here?" He asked Crawley.

"Noah Keller, Taylor's Ex-boyfriend." Harry nodded slightly and looked to Tony.

"Could you take Mr Crawley for a walk please Staff Sergeant, we need to talk to the girls alone for a bit."

The Marine nodded. "Of course sir." He gently grasped Crawley's shoulder. "C'mon, we need to let NCIS handle this."

"I'll talk to you when their done." Crawley said, pointing his finger at the models as he was half dragged half led away.

Harry watched as the producer was led off to calm down and Tony started the questions. "So, was Noah Keller here?" He asked.

One of the models, Hannah Bressling Harry thought, answered Tony. "Yeah, few days ago." She said with a shrug before staring at Ziva's hand, or more specifically what was in her hand.

"Is, is that Berry Mango Madness?" She asked with a little squeal.

"Yes, it is." Ziva said, giving the model an odd look.

"Aww." She said, looking at the slushy longingly. "We've only had Marine food since we got here, I'll give you a hundred bucks for it." She said.

"It's not for sale." Ziva said slowly.

"It's free." Tony said, taking the slushy from Ziva's hand and giving it to the model. "Like love."

Harry chuckled quietly and placed a hand on Ziva's back as she growled at Tony, who was currently grinning stupidly and stumbling over his words to the two models.

She pinched her nose after a moment and spoke. "Why didn't you tell me that Taylor's boyfriend had visited her?" Ziva asked.

"She made us promise int to say anything." The other model answered quietly.

"Well, she's dead, so I don't think she'll mind." Tony said

"You saw the way tom reacted." Bressling said, waving her hand. "He hates Noah, blames him for Taylor's drug habit."

Ziva pursed her lips. "Was she using whilst she was here?"

Bressling looked at Ziva as if she were stupid. "Considering where in a Marine boot camp? No, none of us have used any drugs."

"Noah just came to talk to her, they were having some relationship problems." The other model said with a small shake of her head.

Ziva gave them both a look and Bressling looked down.

"Taylor thought he was using again."

Harry nodded. "Well that would make sense; someone gave her enough PCP to kill the three of you." He said looking at the two remaining models as their faces fell into shock.

After a few questions to wrap up, Harry, Tony, and Ziva headed back to Crawley's office. Tony took out his mobile as they entered and Harry went to sit with Ziva as Tony made his call.

"So." Harry began. "What do you think of the models?"

Ziva gave him a look. "They are air headed idiots with no good reason to be in a military base."

Harry grinned. "So you've never thought of quitting all this to be a model?"

Ziva laughed. "Hardly, I would prefer to do more meaningful things with my time."

Harry smiled slightly. "Fair enough, it's always an option though if you ever feel like having a safer life." He said, looking her over with a smirk. "I reckon you've got the looks for it."

Ziva tilted his head up with one hand. "Eyes up Potter." She said dryly, lightly tapping his cheek.

Tony finished up on the phone and gave a few words to Crawley, thanking him for his cooperation, before he headed for Harry and Ziva. "C'mon, were out of here, Boss and McGee just found Keller."

Harry nodded, standing up with Ziva, and headed back to the car.

* * *

Back at NCIS Harry was sat on Ziva's desk, idly picking his nails with the combat knife she usually kept concealed at her waist. Ziva herself was quietly laughing to herself behind him as she watched footage of the 'Boot camp Babes' attempting to, and failing to, re-assemble a weapon system. Tony had headed off to the Lab a moment ago. Noah Keller had been found dead by Gibbs and McGee, an apparent heroin overdose.

"Enjoying yourself Ziva?" Harry asked, now flipping the knife into the air and catching it.

"This is ridiculous." She said, taking off her headphones and waving at the T.V. "Everyone should know how to; strip, clean, maintain, re-assemble, and operate the standard firearms of their country."

Harry shrugged, balancing the tip of the knife on his thumb nail. "Just because they should doesn't mean they do, there's no national service in America Ziva. Those models have probably never even seen a military firearm in real life, let alone operated one."

"What about the UK, are your people as woefully unprepared as well?" She asked in exasperation.

Harry flicked his thumb, sending the knife high into the air with a little magical assistance so it just about touched the sky light.

"Probably Ziva, my country hasn't had national service since the sixties. Most Britons have never seen a gun unless they were in a cadet force, a public services college course or they or a family member was in the armed forces."

He caught the knife mid-way through his speech, catching it by the handle just before it hit the desk, much to McGee's awe.

"How did you do that?" He asked in shock.

"Do what?" Harry asked in confusion.

"That thing with the knife! You flipped it like a coin and it almost touched the ceiling, then you just caught it without looking! Like it was just an everyday thing!" He seemed horribly excited.

Harry just shrugged. "Practice McGee, I get bored from time to time."

McGee shook his head in disbelief, trying to focus again on his work.

"Anyway, as I was saying Ziva, the UK has incredibly strict gun laws; the comparatively few firearms that are in the country are handed out under tightly controlled circumstances."

"Well that is just ridiculous!" She said, throwing her hands up in the air. "What if you were to be invaded? What then?"

Harry put the knife down and sighed. "I doubt that many civilians even think about it Ziva. Mainland England hasn't been successfully invaded by foreign power since ten sixty-six and the United States haven't been invaded by a foreign power since eighteen twelve."

"Complacency is no excuse." She said with a glare.

Harry held his hands up. "Hey, I agree with you, I'm just telling you how it is. Your average American or British civilian just doesn't think about that sort of thing."

Ziva put her headphones back on and turned to the T.V screen. "Fine."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and stood from the desk. He moved behind Ziva and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, after taking off her headphones.

"Why is this getting to you so much?" He asked quietly.

"Do you know the last time my country was attacked?" She asked, staring unblinkingly at the television. She answered before Harry could speak. "Twice this month. On the fourteenth a mortar attack killed a Thai national, on the fifth a suicide bomber exploded in a mall killing five people." She swivelled in her chair to look at him. "That is why it's 'getting to me'." She whispered angrily. "Your country is safe, America is safe. My country is being bombed continuously and all I see around me is people completely unaware of how lucky they are."

Harry looked over his shoulder, checking if McGee was paying attention - he wasn't, and sat on the edge of Ziva's desk. "Ziva look, have you ever heard the phrase 'out of sight, out of mind'?" She nodded once.

"Then you should understand why these people walk around like they do. To them, what's happening on the other side of the world doesn't concern them. If they knew, and really understood, what was going on in the world today then most of these people would never leave their houses." He gently gripped her hand.

"That's why people like you and me exist. There's always a terrorist plot about to happen, or a breakdown in diplomacy that could lead to skirmishes, or nuclear war that's been averted at the last second. It's our job to make sure things like that are stopped, so that people can continue to be blissfully ignorant of the world. That will never change. Secret agencies like ours exist to make the world a safer place, in essence. We make mistakes sure, we get dodgy leaders or faulty orders and bad things happen but our organizations were made to save lives."

Harry stood before moving back to the front of his desk. "The things we do, the crimes we commit, the people we kill, in the end they make the world a better place. At least that's what I tell myself, to help me sleep at night." He picked up the knife again, idly tossing it in the air to catch.

Ziva bit her lip slightly. "Thanks Potter." She whispered after a moment, going back to watching the T.V.

A short while later Tony emerged from the lift to the lab, a flower vase full of black roses in hand, garnering an odd look from both Harry and McGee and a smirk from Ziva.

"From Abby?" She asked, still watching Boot camp Babes.

Tony smiled as he sat down. "I thought you said that show was just mindless entertainment?"

"It's called research Tony, And I am just trying to find a lead."

He shook a finger with a grin. "That's just how it starts David, soon you'll find yourself led on your couch, eating a large box of chocolates and watching the food network on a fifty-inch plasma."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "We aren't all so easily corrupted Tony. Take McGee for example, he was raised in America his whole life, and yet, he rarely turns on the television. Tell him McGee." She said, waving her hand at the agent in question.

McGee looked between the two for a moment. "Well, er, I suppose that depends on your definition of rarely. I might watch twenty minutes or so, here or there." He said awkwardly.

Tony laughed. "Tell her how you spend the rest of your time Mcgeek."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"

"He spends the rest of his time pretending to be a fairy on an online game." Tony said with a chuckle.

"It's not a fairy Tony, it's an Elf lord." McGee defended.

Harry twitched slightly in silent laughter and Ziva broke into giggles.

"Whatever." Tony said, barely containing a laugh.

A moment or so later, Gibbs came marching round the corner. "Keller wasn't a suicide, he was murdered." He said without preamble, moving it his desk.

Everyone stared at him in silence for a second and he looked up. "Well, what are you waiting for? Find out why!" He ordered.

"Right, on it boss." Tony said as both he and Ziva glued their eyes to their monitors. McGee stepped up to Gibbs' desk.

"I, er, might have something boss." He said.

Gibbs looked at him for a moment. "Well? are you waiting for an invitation, Elf Lord?"

Tony snorted loudly and McGee's ears flushed red. "Right, okay, er, I went through all of Keller's phone records. He received three phone calls the night he died, two were from his business manager, the third was from Hannah Bressling."

Gibbs continued to stare at him for a beat, before he spoke. "Tony, McGee, go and question Bressling. David, Potter, keep looking for anyone with a motive to want this guy dead."

Everyone nodded and set about their assigned tasks.

Harry looked at Ziva as he flipped the knife again. "So, any ideas on who wants this guy dead?"

Ziva shrugged. "He's a party boy from money with a drug habit, could be a long list."

Harry nodded to himself and settled in for a long evening.

* * *

A few hours later found Harry sat in Ziva's chair, idly spinning around, as director Shepard sat at Gibbs' desk, scribbling something on a post-it-note. Ziva had gone down to the lab a moment ago, apparently Abby had found something.

A moment or so later Gibbs came walking back into the bullpen. He and the director spoke for a moment but Harry wasn't paying attention, he was thinking about his reason for being in America.

Frankly, Harry was having doubts.

It was like a constant nagging feeling, telling him that he was doing something dubious. Harry knew it was part of the job, and he accepted that, it didn't mean he had to like it though. From his conversations with Ziva Harry knew that she did not trust easily, he also knew that if Ziva were to find out that the only reason Harry was trying to become her friend was because he wanted information on her father that she would most likely stab him. Harry began to wonder, was it worth destroying a woman's trust just for intelligence on her absent father?

Probably not. Was he going to do it? Harry sighed, yes he was because that's the Job and that's what he does. He does the bad things and the cruel things so other people may sleep soundly at night. It didn't help him sleep soundly at night however.

It wasn't as if Eli David was some great threat to international security either, he wasn't an enemy agent, he wasn't an extremist, he was the deputy director of an allied security agency.

Harry struggled to justify this operation. He was going to manipulate a young woman into trusting him, into sharing family secrets with him, and then he was going to trample all over that trust, and for what? So one agency can get the one-up on another.

Harry dragged a hand over his face, that was just the way it was. He plastered a smile onto his face a moment later when Ziva walked back into the bullpen.

"I can save you the trouble." She said to Gibbs. "On tonight's channel six news, per director Shepard's demands, Cynthia Sanchez issued a retraction on Monday's story. She was also forced to issue a public apology to one Leroy Jethro Gibbs." She finished with a smile.

Harry sat back and watched as Ziva pressed her hands onto Gibbs' desk and leant over.

"The director has friends in high places, no?" She commented with a tilt of her head, inches from Gibbs' face.

"Something I can do for you, Officer David?" Gibbs asked.

"Abby want to see you, says she's found something."

Gibbs nodded and stood. Harry tagged along behind Ziva.

"So what's the Lab tech like?" Harry asked as they picked into the lift. Despite having heard her name a few times around the office, Harry was not allowed into the Lab without permission from the director, a team leader, or a senior field agent and as a consequence he had Never met Abby. Harry assumed that because Gibbs hadn't thrown him from the lift, that he had permission to come down with him.

Ziva shrugged. "She's a hugger."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and Harry nodded slightly, confused.

The lift doors opened to the sound of loud pounding music and Harry stepped out to see a woman with black hair in a white lab coat, a red tartan skirt and _massive_ platform shoes facing a monitor.

She was absently nodding her head side to side with the music as she browsed through something until Gibbs came up behind her.

"What've you got Abby?" He asked.

"Gibbs!" She shouted, bouncing around to see everyone. "Oh, hey! You must be the New guy Ziva mentioned. Harry right?" She asked, tottering up to him in her huge shoes to give him a tight hug.

Harry stiffened slightly and shot Ziva a look over the forensic scientists shoulder. He now understood what she'd said in the lift.

"Anyway, I've found something." She said, bouncing back to the monitor. She was... rather excitable by the looks of it. "I went through all the footage from Boot camp Babes, Taylor wasn't anywhere to be seen the night she died."

Gibbs nodded and Ziva spoke. "She knew where all the cameras were, and how to avoid them." She said.

"Not all of them." Abby said with a smile, putting a disk into a drive. "I pulled this from a Quantico security camera, placed on top of the mess hall."

The video played and it showed two people walking side by side at about one o'clock in the morning.

"Can you clear this up Abby?" Gibbs asked, squinting at the, now paused, image.

"Yepp, I've got my new image enhancement program running right now." She said, running the program. "I've been waiting to try this baby out." She grinned. "There we go, that should clear it up a bit."

Harry let out a small chuckle as he looked at the clearer image. "Well, well, well, what have we got here."

_'Isn't that interesting ..."_

* * *

**A/N: **Right, well, sorry for the delay, I got caught up re watching NCIS season 3. Anyway, as always, please tell me what you; thought, what you liked, what you didn't like. Constructive Criticism is always welcomed. C'mon do a bloke a favour and drop a review :)


	8. Chapter 7

**Average: Chapter 7**

As it turned out, the two figures in the image were none other than Taylor Shane and Staff Sgt McMannis. The latter of which was currently sat in interrogation, waiting for Gibbs to arrive with the questions.

Harry was stood in the observation room with Tony and Ziva, watching the Marine fidget in the chair. He looked rather nervous.

"So, you think he did it?" Harry asked, watching the Marine through the two-way mirror.

Ziva shrugged and Tony slowly shook his head.

"It's possible I suppose, but where would he get the drugs?" Tony asked, a doubtful look on his features.

"You've got a point. Still, PCP is a highly transportable drug, especially in liquid form, you can put it into a squirty bottle and spray it on stuff or just soak something in it. Didn't Abby say that Shane's last meal was a clowny cake?" Harry's finished with a question.

Ziva nodded, still looking at the Marine. "Yes, two of them."

"It would have been piss easy to lace a clowny cake with PCP, just spray it all over and there you go." Harry said with a shrug.

"What about motive?" Tony asked curiously.

"True Harry, the Staff Sgt. Doesn't have a motive." Ziva said, joining the discussion properly.

"I can think of three, just off the top of my head, all theoretical of course." Harry said. "Jealousy, perhaps he made a move and she turned him down. Anger, having to put up with three spoiled super models with a queen bitch complex has to wear on the nerves. And lastly, he could just be a nut case." Harry finished, checking off with his fingers.

"Do you really think he did it?" Tony asked with a grimace.

Harry snorted. "Nah, I'm just playing devil's advocate. This doesn't fit; it's a drugging for starters."

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked, looking at him with a tilted head.

"I can't see the Staff Sgt Killing someone with drugs. I can see him going mental and just shooting someone to death, that's a crime of emotion - all in the moment kind of thing. I can't see him drugging someone however that suggests fore thought and planning. A cold, premeditated, murder rather than a spur of the moment snap." Harry shrugged.

"Most service personnel that I've met simply don't think like that, they aren't capable of something so... disconnected."

Tony chuckled. "So you don't think he did it, because you think he's too stupid?"

Harry gave him a small glare. "That's not what I said Tony. I said it's an impersonal, cold and planned out way to murder someone. Most people can't do that. Sure, anyone can grab a hammer and bludgeon someone to death if they're angry enough but this isn't a crime done out of anger, at least not spur of the moment anger, this required planning and a cold detachment from the scene. And that is a whole nother kettle of fish."

"Fish?" Ziva asked in confusion, looking between Tony and Harry.

"Yeah, I mean it's completely different." Harry elaborated.

"Oh, I see." She said. "Anyway Tony, I agree with Harry, I doubt the Staff Sgt killed Taylor."

The door slammed open and Gibbs walked in calmly. Tony however jumped about a foot into the air.

"It doesn't matter whether you think he did or not right now, prove it." Gibbs said, and then turned to look at Dinozzo. "What's up with you Dinozzo?"

"Uh, nothing boss. I was just describing your interrogation methods to David and Potter." He said, smoothing his tie.

Gibbs looked at him for a moment. "Of course, anyway I'm not interrogating him."

"You're not?" Tony asked in confusion.

"Nope, you are agent David." Gibbs said, handing her the case file.

She took it with a raised eyebrow. "You are aware that I've never conducted an interrogation without causing some form of pain, right?"

Gibbs just gave her a look and she headed off with a shrug.

"This ought to be interesting." Harry muttered, looking into the interrogation room as Ziva entered.

"Think she'll do alright?" Tony asked quietly.

Harry snorted. "If she can refrain from snapping him in two then yeah, I think she'll do great."

Tony nodded slightly nervously. "Reckon she'll do that?"

Harry's grimaced. "That's the question, isn't it mate?"

Gibbs grunted in slight amusement as Ziva dragged her chair as far from the Staff Sgt. as she could. "She'll do fine."

"You mind if I dip ma'am?" The Staff Sgt asked, his voice coming through the speakers in the observation room.

Ziva gave a slight nod and then the interrogation started in earnest.

Tony snorted when the Marine announced that he and the model were in love and Harry rolled his eyes as Gibbs quickly put Tony into a flustered withdrawal.

Harry however was watching the Marine closely, he was sweating and going red in the face, his eyes were darting around and he seemed to be becoming irritable. Harry didn't like this, either the Staff Sgt was sick... or he was about ready to snap.

As the questions continued the Staff Sgt became more and more irritable, constantly twitching and darting his eyes around. Gibbs got a phone call from Abby a few minutes into the interrogation and rushed off just after.

"I don't like the look of this." Tony muttered, staring at the fidgeting Marine.

"Neither do I." Harry said grimly. "Twitchy bastard looks like he's on something." He gave Tony a sideways look.

Just as Harry finished talking the Marine shouted, flipping the table in the interrogation room.

"And that's our cue." Harry muttered as he rushed from the observation room with Tony.

Tony burst into the Interrogation room, Harry just behind him. The Marine looked at Tony for a second before charging him. McMannis speared Tony against the wall, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to the ground, before turning to Ziva.

She dropped into a defensive stance, ready for the Marines charge.

It never came.

Harry grabbed the Staff Sgt by the shoulder, muttering Stupefy as he did, his hand covered the flash and the Marine's enraged screaming covered the whispered word. Harry's forehead impacting the bridge of McMannis' nose covered the effect of the stunner and sent the Marine to the floor out cold.

Ziva shot Harry slightly sour look. "I could have handled that myself."

Harry nodded. "I know you could have but I was closer."

Ziva pursed her lips slightly but nodded as she moved to help Tony up. A moment later Gibbs came bursting into the interrogation room.

He stopped when he saw McMannis lying on the floor, nose shattered.

Tony rubbed his abdomen as he looked towards Gibbs. "He just went mental boss, starting flipping out."

Gibbs nodded slightly, pulling the unconscious Marine off of the floor and picking up the can of dipping tobacco. "The chew's laced with PCP. Abby found a tobacco stain containing PCP on Shane's clothing." He looked to Dinozzo. "Get an EMT in here, the Staff Sgt needs help and we need to find out where he got the chew."

Tony nodded and left the room.

"You two can get out of here, I'll wait for the EMT, and we won't be able to do anything until the Staff Sgt comes to."

Ziva looked at Gibbs in surprise for a moment before she nodded and left the room, Harry followed close behind.

"I was expecting more of a response for laying out someone in custody." Harry said as they entered the lift.

Ziva shrugged. "Gibbs understands why it was done." She said, pressing the button for the bullpen. "Not much else you can do when you're attacked by someone under the influence."

Harry nodded thoughtfully and followed Ziva back to her desk. "So what now?" He asked.

"I don't know." Ziva admitted. "We can't do anything until we find out where McMannis got the snuff."

"At least we can safely say that he didn't kill Shane." Harry said as he perched on Ziva's desk.

"True, though it's possible that he killed Keller." Ziva said.

"Possible, though doubtful." Harry said. "Keller died the same night that Shane did. McMannis didn't find out about Shane's death until the morning. If Keller had died after that then I'd say it was probable that McMannis killed him out of some sort of misguided revenge. But..." Harry trailed off with a shrug.

"So you think the same person who laced the snuff killed Keller?" Ziva asked, idly chewing on the tip of a pen.

"Yeah, I reckon so, but I could be wrong." Harry answered.

Harry checked his watch, 18:50, just as Gibbs entered the bullpen.

"David, Potter, go home. EMT's are taking the Staff Sgt in, they say he won't be available until tomorrow." Gibbs said, sitting down at his desk.

"Gibbs?" Ziva questioned, looking towards his desk.

He looked up from what he was doing. "Go, go home, both of you." Gibbs said, getting back to whatever it was he was doing.

Ziva nodded, standing up. "Okay, night Gibbs."

Harry led the way from the Bullpen to his agency car, still where he left it in the car park. He unlocked the door and slipped behind the wheel, Ziva climbed into the passenger seat.

"Got everything?" Harry asked.

Ziva nodded. "Yes."

"Alrighty then." Harry said, hitting the ignition.

* * *

The drive back to Ziva's flat was quiet for the most part, with occasional talk about the current and past cases.

When Harry pulled up outside her building Ziva got out of the car and headed around to the Driver's side window. "Would you like to come in? For Coffee, I think Tony said."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I was always under the assumption that 'coming in for coffee' means 'come in so we can have hot sex' in America?"

Ziva growled. "Damn it! Tony said it was something you ask your friends to be polite."

Harry chuckled. "This is Tony; he probably thinks it _is _polite to ask your friends that. Politely offering to 'scratch the itch' as it were."

Ziva pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, do you want to come in for coffee? Actual coffee that is."

Harry nodded, getting out and locking the car. "Sure, I'd love to."

Ziva gave him a small smile, digging her keys out of one pocket and shoving one hand in the other pocket to ward of the chill of the cold December night.

She looked Harry over as they walked to the building door. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a thin maroon jumper.

"Aren't you cold?" She asked as they stepped into her flat block.

Harry shrugged. "Not really, no. I spent six years at a boarding school in the northern Scottish Highlands. It gets quite a bit colder there; I'm used to the cold."

Ziva shook her head. "Yes, well, I grew up in the Negev desert; I prefer to be warm if I can help it."

Harry chuckled slightly as they entered her flat. "Fair enough."

Ziva walked into the small kitchen area an took out two cups, flicking the kettle on as she went. "So why did your relatives send you to a boarding school? From what you've said, they hardly seem like they would pay for it." She said as Harry entered the small kitchen area.

"That's true; if they had a choice then they wouldn't of." Harry said with a nod. "But my parents left it in their will, along with the money to pay for it. My relatives didn't really have a say in the matter." Harry said as Ziva spooned coffee into the two cups.

Ziva hummed as she went about filling the cups with water. "Did you enjoy it there?" She asked.

Harry grimaced slightly. "I did, most of the time. That school was more of a home than my Aunt and Uncle's house ever was, but it had its ups and downs. Some years were rougher than others but overall I'd say it was one of the best things that ever happened to me." In more ways than one.

"How about you?" He asked, taking the proffered cup. "Did you enjoy school?"

Ziva nodded as she led the way to the settee. "Yes, I enjoyed school." She said, sitting down. "I made a lot of friends there and hand fun, I enjoyed the learning as well."

Harry took a sip of his coffee as he sat down on the next cushion over from her. "I was always better at the practical things, I wasn't stupid but I was quite lazy in school." He said, cradling the cup in his hands.

Ziva smiled. "I was going to go to university after my two years' service... but I ended joining Mossad straight from the IDF." She looked at Harry. "Did you do any military service before MI6?" She asked.

Harry shook his head. "I thought about it but I decided to go to university instead, I was tagged for recruitment into MI6 just before I finished, though I didn't know it at the time. MI6 only accepts intelligence officers with 2:1 Degrees, when I got my results they sent a formal offer."

She looked at him in surprise. "MI6 recruits agents without combat experience?"

Harry shrugged. "Some agents served before going to university. When you join you're put into training sections and put through a fifty-two week training course under the hardest bastard MI6 can find at the time, my section was under a particularly grumpy retired Para. After that you do another year of field training as a junior intelligence officer, doing accompanied ops with another senior agent. That part is known as your probationary year. When your probationary year is up you get two choices, you can stay as a regular intelligence officer or you can join special operations. I joined special operations, that comes with another six months of training." Harry chuckled. "Technically I'm still a junior special operations intelligence officer; I haven't completed my first year yet. I bumped into you on my first real assignment"

"What's the difference between special operations and regular intelligence officers?" Ziva asked.

Harry thought for a moment. "Special operations agents get harder assignments, we also do the whole War Zone intelligence thing, we double up as a counter-terrorism unit when the need arises too." Harry grimaced. "We also handle the darker aspects of MI6 work such as the sabotage and assassination jobs."

Ziva nodded, noticing the grim look on Harry's face. "Not exactly your favorite part of the job?" She asked softly.

Harry nodded. "You could say that. I didn't sign up to be a government hitman but... it's part of the job at the end of the day. It helps, somewhat, that I've never been ordered to eliminate anyone who didn't do something to deserve it but it still doesn't sit well with me."

Ziva gently took his free hand. "That's a good thing, trust me, when you stop feeling bad about it is when you know you're in trouble."

Harry gave her a small smile, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. "I know. It's just not something I'm proud of." He shook his head. "Anyway, in essence, special operations is more like the paramilitary wing of MI6 whereas regular intelligence officers are more like the type of spy you'll see in a movie."

Ziva nodded. "Mossad have something very similar, Kidon or 'tip of the spear', it sounds as if they operate in much the same way as your special operations branch." She said.

Harry smirked at her. "You would know, wouldn't you?" He said with a chuckle.

"Would I?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I had my suspicions when you kicked me around in Jericho. Kidon is known to other agencies you know and it isn't that easy to beat me down." Harry said with a shrug before continuing. "I wasn't entirely sure until the first day the Rainier op though, when I saw that rather fetching tattoo on the inside of your thigh." He gave her a soft laugh. "I'm sure most people wouldn't ever make the connection but then, most people can't just smack me about like you did either."

She smirked at him. "So you're assuming I'm Kidon on the fact that I have a tattoo?" She asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm assuming you're kidon because you have a very specific tattoo of a plain spear head with the Star of David within it in a spot that isn't publicly visible."

Ziva shrugged. "It could just be a tattoo."

Harry nodded. "Sure, it could be, but it isn't. I already know you're in Mossad and I know that you're exceptionally well trained, thinking you're part of Kidon isn't that much of a leap."

Ziva gave him a small smile. "I suppose you're correct, I am a part of Kidon." She suddenly laughed. "If my father knew I was discussing the aspects of Mossad with a foreign agent he'd probably assume I had turned traitor." She looked at him after a moment. "Which does make me curious as to why you were so open?"

Harry gave her a small smile. "What have I actually told you?"

"That you're a part of MI6 special operations, what they do, and how long the training is." She answered, almost instantly.

Harry nodded. "True, where is the training conducted?"

Ziva blinked at him. "I don't know."

Harry's smile got slightly wider." How about what the training includes? Or how many of us there are? What about specific assignments I've completed? Or actual proof that we exist at all? All I've said could simply be a lie, there's no hard evidence."

Ziva nodded at him, with a smile of her own. "You haven't really told me anything."

"Precisely." Harry said with a grin. "Nothing you can use at least. And all you've done is confirm a few thoughts I had."

They shared a quick laugh on the settee before Harry drained his cup of, now cold, coffee and checked his watch, 20:12.

He stood up. "I had best be off, thanks for the coffee." He said, raising his cup with a smile.

Ziva stood and showed him to the door, taking his cup. "You're welcome." She said with a smile as Harry stepped from her flat.

Harry gave her a wave as he began to walk off and called out over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow at NCIS."

And with that, Harry trotted down the steps and out of the building to his car.

* * *

The next morning Harry awoke just before sunrise and went through his normal routine. He got showered and dressed, deciding on a little more formality today he pulled on a charcoal coloured suit, and decided not to shave, he rather liked the look of the rough stubble currently dusting his Jaw. He had a light breakfast, grabbed his SIG and headed for the car.

He arrived at the NCIS building just before seven AM and was waved though security before he headed for the bullpen.

Upon stepping from the lift Harry saw McGee scrambling around on the floor, quickly trying to pick up files with his ears flushed an embarrassed red.

"You alright down there McGee?" Harry questioned as he moved to sit in his now customary spot, the edge Of Ziva's desk. Ziva herself was sat behind her desk, idly flicking through something on the computer.

"I, uh, yeah, yeah I'm fine Harry, I just dropped a folder." McGee said as he stood back up, files in hand.

"Okie dokie then." Harry said with a smile as McGee headed for his own desk.

Just as McGee sat down Gibbs came around the corner into the bullpen, coffee in hand. "Staff Sgt McMannis woke up an hour ago." Gibbs said without preamble. "He asked the nurse what happened to him and when she informed him that he'd been drugged via his Tobacco he told her that he got the Chew from the show."

Ziva looked at him in surprise. "The drugs came from the program staff?" She asked.

Gibbs frowned. "It came from the executive guy, Crawley."

Ziva stood up, strapping her gun to her belt just below the small of her back. "I take it we're going to go bring him in?" She asked.

"You think, David?" Gibbs said sarcastically, heading towards the lift. "C'mon McGee!" He called.

Harry's jumped from Ziva's desk, following Ziva, Gibbs and McGee to the lift. Tony was in the lift when it opened.

"We going somewhere boss?" He asked as everyone stepped in with him.

"Quantico." Was Gibbs short answer.

"Okay then." Dinozzo said, just going along with it.

The drive from NCIS to Quantico was spent filling in Tony on why they were going there in the first place and trying to work out why Crawley did it.

Twenty five minutes later and the four NCIS agents plus Harry were stepping into Thomas Crawley's 'office' inside Quantico.

Crawley was talking to the two remaining models when they stepped in, he stopped when he realised Gibbs and the team had entered.

"What can I do for all?" He asked, looking up from the desk.

Gibbs stepped forward. "You can stand up and place your hands on the desk. You're under arrest for the murder of Taylor Shane and then Attempted murder of Staff Sergeant Michael McMannis."

"What!" Crawley shouted in surprise. "This is absurd!"

Gibbs sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's half past seven in the morning and I haven't had nearly enough coffee for this bullshit." Gibbs said quietly before raising his voice to a shout. "Assume the position before I break my foot off in your ass!"

Crawley stood up, placing his hands flat on the desk as Gibbs moved to handcuff him. "I want my lawyer!"

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" Gibbs said monotonously.

Crawley continued to shout and struggle as he was led from the office into the back of Gibbs agency car, much to the shock of the two Models. Harry gave them both a polite nod before leaving.

Gibbs and Tony got into the agency car with Crawley, McGee as well - sitting in back with Crawley to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

Harry and Ziva climbed into the Second NCIS car, following Gibbs back to NCIS.

"Well." Harry began. "That was unexpected."

Ziva nodded, forcing herself to drive at the more legal pace set by Gibbs in the car ahead. "Mmm, I didn't expect Crawley to have a hand in this." She said, watching the road.

"So what happens to him now?" Harry asked.

"Gibbs will probably give him to one of the other teams to interrogate, we've done most of the work, now we just need to file reports."

Harry chuckled. "Well, you do at least, I don't." He grinned at her. "I can just mooch about."

Ziva raised an eyebrow and looked at him, ignoring the road for a few moments. "You're just going to 'mooch about' as you say?"

Harry snorted. "Nah, of course not. I need to report to my handler, I'll do that whilst you're writing up your report. I was going to report in last night but I figured it could wait. I haven't done anything worth mentioning and James knows that this is a long term liaison assignment, he doesn't expect me to check in every twenty four hours."

Ziva nodded, turning her attention back to the road.

* * *

The drive back to NCIS was rather boring, nothing much was said, and as Ziva predicted, Crawley was handed over to the second Major Crimes Response Team for interrogation when they arrived.

The NCIS team headed to the bullpen and Harry walked into the break room. It was a small room containing; a beat-up looking settee, a small table, a few chairs, and a rather old looking coffee machine puttering along on its last legs. Harry went and sat on the beat-up looking settee, pulling out his cryptophone as he went.

He held down the speed dial for James and waited.

"Authenticate." Came the synthetic voice down the line.

"One-one-zero-nine-two-eight-eight-nine." Harry rattled off.

A beat later and James was speaking. "Report agent."

"I've confirmed suspicions about Miss David being a part of Kidon but I have no further information on David Snr." Harry said quietly.

"I see." James replied. "Thoughts agent?" James asked.

"Ziva is distant from her father, and I can understand why, but she's fiercely loyal to her people. The chance of getting usable information about Eli David from her is quite low."

"Understood agent." James paused for a moment. "Keep it up in the off chance that you discover anything, we have other operations on-going but this is currently the most viable."

Harry let out a dry chuckle. "That, and the brass doesn't want me back just yet."

"It's your own fault agent, you shouldn't have called C's wife a 'mousy Hag'." Harry sighed.

Contrary to popular opinion, the Director of MI6 was not referred to as M. That was pure cinema fluff. He was, however, referred to as C. It was a tradition from the time of MI6's conception when the Director of the time signed his correspondences 'C' on account of his last name being Cummings. In actuality his full name, rank, and title was Captain Sir George Mansfield Smith-Cummings. He routinely left off the smith in communications and eventually began to simply sign them 'C', this slowly became a code name and all subsequent directors have referred to themselves as 'C' in an effort to retain anonymity. Anyway, continuing on.

"I didn't know she was his wife." Harry complained. "I thought she was some random bird off the street who'd given those lay abouts at the gate the slip."

James snorted. "Let it be a lesson then, good manners cost you nothing but can gain you everything, if you hadn't been a dick then you wouldn't be stuck in America doing doss jobs for the yanks."

"Yeah, thank you for that gem of wisdom." Harry grumbled.

"See, there you go again agent." James said with a laugh. "Next report is in two days, take care agent."

Harry sighed and placed the cryptophone back in his pocket, standing up with a stretch, he headed back to the bullpen.

Harry moved to sit on the edge of Ziva's desk, looking around the room as he did. The NCIS team were each sat at their desks, working with varying levels of concentration. McGee was rapidly typing away, Tony was typing one handed with his head in the other, and Ziva was idly bobbing her head to some imaginary tune as she typed up her report. Gibbs was absent.

"So" Harry began as he sat down. "What do you lot do now?" He asked.

"We fill out reports, in triplicate." Tony groaned. "One for us, one for Gibbs and one for the director."

Harry let out a small laugh. "That sounds like so much fun." He said sarcastically.

"Doesn't it just." Tony grumbled.

"Well then." Harry said, clapping his hands together and jumping off of Ziva's desk. "I'll be off then, nothing for me to do around here." He grinned at everyone and Tony shot him a mock glare.

Just as Harry was about to head towards the lift a small woman with blonde hair in a pixie cut and a headset around her neck called his name, walking down from MTAC.

"Umm, Mr Potter, sir?" She said awkwardly.

Harry turned around to look at the woman, obviously an office worker of some sort rather than a field agent. "Yes?" He asked with a smile.

"There's an urgent call for you, coming through to MTAC." She said, poor thing sounded horribly nervous. "Agent Gibbs sent me to get you."

Harry had met her type before at MI6, often glued to a computer in the corner, they usually interacted very little with the agents and often went ignored. They also had the odd habit of being exceedingly nervous when asked to talk to operational personal. Harry found them rather fun to be honest.

"And you would like me to go and answer this call?" He asked patiently.

"Yeah, er, yes, please." She said, her ears going red.

Harry grinned at her. "Of course, lead on sweetheart." He said with a wink. Poor girl flushed violently and began to lead him up to MTAC.

Harry shot Tony a small thumbs up as he went past, Tony rolled his eyes and held up one hand - giving Harry a three out of five.

Harry shook his head an followed the petite woman into MTAC as she scanned herself in and held the door open.

Harry walked to the end of the dark room and stood beside Agent Gibbs, who was stood next to director Shepard.

"You wanted to see me agent Gibbs?" Harry asked.

"Not particularly Potter." Gibbs said with a tiny smirk. "But he does." He flicked on then large screen against the back wall and Harry looked at in surprise.

"C." Harry said in shock.

Gibbs watched in mild surprise as the normally irreverent Englishman snapped to parade perfect attention.

"Sir." Harry said a little awkwardly. "About your wife, I just wante- "

"Shut up Potter." 'C' interrupted as Gibbs raised his eyebrows. What had Harry done to the head of MI6's wife? "I don't have time for your bollocks, we have a problem."

_'Oh shit...'_

* * *

**A/N: **Right, there you have it. Chapter seven. This is now my second most viewed story, the response from you guys has been amazing :) now lets see if we can make it my second most reviewed story as well. *hint hint* Also, I would like to point out that I do my best to take your ideas on board and I would like to think I've done an alright job of this. As always, read and review. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, corrections that you think should be made, and other such comments. I always welcome constructive criticism :).


	9. Chapter 8

**Average: Chapter 8**

Harry stood stock still, adopting the at ease position, as 'C' outlined the situation. 'C' was a rough looking man in his mid-fifties, his face usually forming some grimace or frown - at least on the few times that Harry had spoken to him.

"As it stands." He was saying. "Four hours ago, at about o'four-hundred hours Washington time, the daughter of the Minister of State for Foreign and Commonwealth affairs, Jack Straw, was abducted whilst attending an all-night party in Georgetown."

Harry nodded slightly, watching as 'C' looked over various reports that had, no doubt, been streaming into his office almost non-stop since the event.

"Where her security detail was at this time is currently unknown." C continued, his frown deepening. Obviously the idea of not knowing something had rankled the old spy master. "The party responsible for the abduction contacted Mr Straw some twenty minutes after the event. Their intentions are unknown, though they scoffed at the offer of money."

Harry frowned thoughtfully, ideological reasons then? Political motivations?

"The group involved identified themselves as 'concerned friends of Ireland' or some such bollocks like that." C said, pursing his lips tightly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Concerned friends of Ireland?" Harry asked, catching the confused looks on both agent Gibbs and Director Shepard's faces.

"Yes, not their actual organization's name of course." C said, waving his hand impatiently. "They've popped up a few times before, our analysts have theorized that they had some ties to the IRA back during the Troubles and now continue on in some small fashion, acting more or less like an organized crime family hiding behind the facade of political activism." C grumbled in disdain.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yanks who think they're Irish because their great uncle's aunt was born in Cork?" He asked.

C grunted. "Something to that effect, I really don't care. They were small time, not worth our attention. Now, however, they appear to have pulled their balls out of their prissy little handbag and gotten our attention." Harry sighed mentally. C really wasn't in a good mood, not that he ever was really but now he was in an even worse mood than usual.

"Frankly I don't give a damn who they are or what they want, I want them gone and I want the girl back." C growled.

"And how do you expect to do that, um, C is it?" Director Shepard asked.

C looked at her as if only just remembering that members of NCIS were still in the room.

"These people are not exactly professionals Director." C said slowly, as if talking to a child. C wasn't always the most... politically correct person; in fact he was often a bit of a dick. "We may not be on top anymore but we're damn good at our job Shepard, we've still got a few tricks left as well." The image of C spoke to Harry again.

"We traced the call they made announcing the abduction." C shook his head. "Bloody amateurs, they used an unsecured device and spent too much time bragging." C snorted. "It's bloody insulting that they even thought that they might get away with this. Anyway, your handler will give you the full details momentarily agent." Just as C was about to switch feeds he stopped himself. "One last thing agent, in the effort of 'fostering relations', NCIS will be allowed to view your mission feed via MTAC." C glared at him and Harry internally groaned, no magic if he was being watched.

"Do not bugger this up agent." C said, pinning Harry with a glare. "Or I swear, by all that is good and holy in the world, you'll being doing doss jobs for the CIA for the rest of your career." The feed went dead.

Harry groaned. The Minister of state for Foreign and Commonwealth affairs was the minister to which the SIS reported to, making Jack Straw C's boss - making him Harry's overall boss. As for doing doss jobs for the CIA? Harry was hard pressed to think of a worse alternative. Whilst the CIA held the distinction of being the largest intelligence agency in the world, in recent years its effectiveness as an actual _intelligence _agency had been called into question. The intelligence that the CIA had collected during the two thousand and three invasion of Iraq had been deemed so useless by NATO forces on the ground that it could be argued that it did more harm than help, so much so that the invasion force had started to refer to the CIA as the _Certified Idiots of America_ almost to a man. Not really something Harry wanted to be attached to.

The screen bank against the far wall of MTAC flickered to life once more as Harry stood silently with agent Gibbs and Director Shepard.

Instead of Showing the stern visage of C it now showed the bespectacled form of James Brass, Harry's SIS handler.

James was a tall, thin, man in his late twenties. James had never been a field agent; instead the Oxford graduate had started his SIS career as a data analyst and had been made a handler when his aptitude for planning operations had made itself apparent.

He nodded at Harry. "Feeling refreshed after your conversation with the boss man agent?" He asked with a grin. James was a rather relaxed person, often quite easy to get along with.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just give me the details; I'd rather not piss him off more by taking too much time." He said.

James shrugged. "Sure." A bit of quick typing and a few mouse clicks later and he spoke once more. "I've sent NCIS what we know so far." He said.

One of the techies sat at the computers lining the side wall, the same petite young woman who'd shown Harry in, looked towards the Director. Shepard nodded and a moment later half of the MTAC screen bank was filled with a head and shoulders shot of a dark haired woman in her late teens or early twenties.

"This is the target." James said. "Her name is Charlotte Straw, daughter of Jack Straw. As far as we know she's being held in a U-store self-storage unit."

Harry snorted. "Original."

James rolled his eyes. "These people aren't professionals Potter; they're second rate scum trying to play a game they don't know the rules to. We would have been more than happy leave them to the septics but now they've taken the boss's daughter and Straw's breathing so hard down our necks I can practically feel my collar moving."

Harry nodded. Abduction was always a bad business but when the person being abducted happens to be the boss's daughter, that makes it MI6's bad business... and that rarely ends well for the abductors. If it was one thing that spy agencies didn't like, it was being watched too closely. This whole mess would probably lead to closer scrutiny of MI6 affairs for a while, rather than the usual trust that they would just get the job done without too much oversight.

James continued. "Your job will be to get the girl out, preferably without undue harm agent." James gave him a stern look. Harry shifted slightly under his gaze as Director Shepard and agent Gibbs shit him curious looks.

Harry nodded. "I understand, don't bruise the principal. Rules of engagement?" Harry asked.

James paused for a moment. "Weapons free agent, boss doesn't want these idiots trying again." Another image replaced that of Charlotte Straw, this time a man in his early forties. He had broad shoulders, a block like head, and greying hair - cut short. "We've identified this man as the caller and probably the man in charge. His name is Aidan Byrne, he's been tied to multiple petty crimes over the last two decades by the yanks, and it's only by pure luck that this bloke hasn't been sent away."

Harry studied the photo of the man. Beyond the block-like head and greying hair he had almost no other distinguishing features, apart from a small scar going through his left eyebrow. His face looked weathered and his skin was ruddy, he looked like an average bloke in his forties.

"They've crossed a line." James was saying. "And now we, or more specifically you, are going to make sure that they never do it again."

James addressed Director Shepard. "I assume that agent Potter will be allowed access to the NCIS armoury for the duration of this operation?" He asked her, one brow raised.

Director Shepard nodded after a moment. "Of course, Officer Potter will be allowed limited access to the armoury for the purpose of this operation." She said, giving Harry a sideways look.

James nodded his gratitude to her. "Thank you Director." He said before he addressed Harry again. "I'll send the address to your phone agent; I want you kitted out within fifteen minutes. NCIS have been granted permission to view the operation feed via MTAC, I'll be on the line advising as well, good luck." The feed went dead.

"Alright Potter, agent Gibbs will escort you to the armoury and get you sorted out." Directed Shepard nodded at Gibbs. "We'll be watching from here, the rest of 'Team Gibbs' will be as well."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the last part and Director Shepard chuckled. "I think if that if you are to be working with them for any length of time then they deserve to know how you perform."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose that's fair enough, I'm just not used to having an audience whilst I work." He said, looking at the Director.

She smiled slightly before she spoke. "You won't even know we're watching, agent Gibbs will show you to the Armoury now." She said, obviously dismissing him.

Gibbs tapped him in the shoulder once and walked off, expecting Harry to follow, Harry followed.

* * *

The NCIS armoury was a place that Harry had never seen before and as Gibbs typed the entrance code into the security door Harry found himself examining the room.

It was small, maybe nine feet by ten feet, and held a weapons rack along one wall, a row of ammunition boxes along another, and a row of ballistic vests along the third.

Gibbs walked into the centre of the room, pointing the separate parts of the Armoury. "The vests are rated to NIJ level three; take one of them, a carbine, and a handful of Magazines." Gibbs looked over Harry and his suit, particularly his leather brogues. "Talk to Dinozzo, he usually keeps a spare pair of Jeans in his locker. I've got a pair of boots you can borrow for this."

Harry nodded. "Thanks Gibbs." Harry said as he took his jacket off and pulled one of the blue ballistic vests on over his shirt. Next he picked up one of the carbine's from the rack, an M4A1 carbine with a small Aimpoint sight.

"You know how to use that?" Gibbs asked as he handed Harry four magazines of 5.56mm NATO ammunition.

"I think I've got it." Harry said with a smile as he checked the weapon over, making sure the chamber was empty, unloaded, and that the safety was on.

Gibbs nodded and led Harry back to the bullpen, garnering odd looks from agents and staff members seeing Harry walking through the building, Carbine in hand and vest on.

Tony raised his eyebrows as Harry and Gibbs entered the bullpen, looking at Harry he spoke. "Going somewhere Harry? You seem a bit tooled up for a coffee run." He asked, watching as Harry rolled his shirt sleeves up.

"I've got a job to do mate; you all get to watch from MTAC." Harry said with a slight grin. "Speaking of, Gibbs said you keep a spare pair of jeans around here, could I borrow them for a bit?"

Tony nodded, pulling open one of the draws in his desk. "Um, yeah sure." He said, handing them to Harry. "You, uh, wont being getting them wrecked, will you?" Harry smiled slightly.

Though Tony was hiding it quite well with the false fear for his jeans, Harry knew that his friend was worried for him. After all, if the jeans got full of holes, chances were that Harry would be full of holes too.

"You won't even be able to tell I've worn them mate." Harry said with a grin as he kicked off his shoes and trousers, pulling Tony's jeans on shortly afterwards. Tony nodded and then looked to Gibbs in surprise as he handed Harry a pair of desert boots.

Harry took them with a grin, flipping them over. "Lowa, Gibbs? Fancy." Gibbs gave him a look.

"Do not ruin them Potter." He said simply.

Harry nodded and pulled them on, a little tight but they'd do.

Ziva and McGee looked on as Harry stood back up, now dressed in his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Tony's jeans, and Gibbs' desert boots with an NCIS ballistic vest on over the shirt.

Gibbs gave him one last look before handing him an ear piece. "We'll be in MTAC, I want my boots back when you're done."

Harry gave Gibbs a small smile. "Sure thing Gibbs." And went to head for the lift, Ziva grabbed his arm as he went past.

"What on earth is going on?" She asked quietly.

Harry paused for a moment and faced her. "A slight problem dropped into MI6's lap this morning, I'm sorting it out. I'll fill you in when I get back, promise." He said with a smile.

Ziva pursed her lips but nodded after a moment. "You had better, and be careful." She said.

"I will, you'll be in MTAC with the rest of 'Team Gibbs', you lot get to watch." Harry said with a small grin.

With that Harry headed to his agency car, drawing more odd looks as he crossed the car park.

* * *

Harry slipped in behind the wheel of his black agency sedan and placed the Carbine across his lap as he hit the ignition. He grabbed his phone as he pulled away, to find a text from James detailing the address of the storage unit. A moment later another text came through with the Frequency for the ear piece.

Harry switched to the correct frequency as he took a turn and a moment later James' voice came through the ear piece.

"Hello Sierra one-zero, this is headquarters-niner, radio check, over." He said.

"Sierra one-zero, comms good, over." He replied.

"Good, put your glasses on, I want video on this. I'm being routed through MTAC, the others are listening in on the feed, over." James' voice sounded as Harry took another corner at moderate speed.

Harry took the glasses he'd used on the Rainier op and pushed them onto his nose and he shifted gears and accelerated down the road, swerving between cars as he went.

"Glasses are on, over." Harry said, overtaking a flashy looking convertible.

"Visuals are good, over." James replied as fish tailed round a sharp right.

"Christ! He drives like Ziva." Tony's voice exclaimed down the line.

"Quiet on the line!" James said angrily and the feed went silent for a moment. "Sierra one zero, ETA to target building? Over." James continued.

"Fifteen minutes at current speed, over." Harry replied calmly, swerving between two cars - a red sedan and a blue people carrier.

"Roger, report in on arrival, out." James said, the line going dead.

Harry nodded to himself and hit the accelerator, weaving past two more cars.

Fifteen minutes later and Harry came to a rolling stop on the opposite side of the street to the storage centre. "Hello headquarters, this is sierra one-zero, over." Harry spoke quietly, killing the engine.

"Headquarters, send, over." James' voice spoke over the line.

"I'm at the location, please advise, over." Harry said, sliding one of the four 5.56mm magazines into the M4A1 Carbine.

Harry found himself examining the building across the way as he waited for James' response. It was quiet, very quiet, which was odd for the time of day. The building itself had obviously seen better days, the bare brick looked worn down and the paint on the sign was peeling, nevertheless it was a large building probably holding two or three of the bigger storage units.

"Intelligence suggests." James began. "From a list of known associates of Byrne, that there could be between four and six people involved with this, plus Byrne."

Harry nodded to himself as he checked the Carbine over once again.

"According to the building schematics that I've managed pull up there's two floors, with roof access via a fire escape. Advise that you enter via the roof and work your way down quietly, room by room." James continued.

"Understood, out." Harry said, checking the street for any civilian traffic before pulling away and driving to the next street over.

Harry pulled up outside the back of the, seemingly empty, storage building and quickly checked for people, there weren't any, before getting out.

After a quick and quiet look around, he found the fire escape that James had mentioned. Slinging the Carbine over his shoulder, Harry jumped up to the ladder and pulled himself up. He unslung the carbine, braced it to his shoulder, racked the slide, and begun the soft walk to the top.

Harry passed two windows, both leading to empty corridors, on his way to the roof.

Upon reaching the top, Harry hopped onto the flat roof and slowly moved towards the building access door, his foot falls crunching quietly on the grit of the floor.

He reached the door and slowly pushed it open, waiting for any response. Nothing.

Raising the Carbine, Harry moved through the doorway and down the steps into the building.

Whilst Harry was quietly moving through the building in search of both the Minister's daughter and the people responsible for taking her, 'Team Gibbs' was watching Harry's movements from MTAC.

* * *

Tony and Gibbs were stood, side by side, watching the video feed on the bank of screens. McGee was sat in one of the viewing chairs, doing much the same thing, though he was also interested in what was transmitting the feed in the first place - the glasses Harry was wearing seemed to be of a much higher quality than NCIS's own that they had planned to use on the Rainier op.

Director Shepard was also watching the feed with interest, curious to see if the MI6 agent was truly capable or if this one man mission would end in disaster.

Lastly, Ziva was also watching the feed with rapt attention, and a certain degree of professional respect for the foreign agent. Harry was currently moving slowly and calmly from room to room, checking corners and exposing himself as little as possible as he swept areas for either the HVT (the High Value Target) or any of her abductors. So far Harry had come up empty on both counts, either the intel was wrong or Harry simply hadn't found them yet - Ziva was betting on the latter.

* * *

As Harry approached the bottom the of the ground floor staircase he stopped just before the door, straining his ears. He thought he'd heard a noise, like boots scuffing the ground. Listening hard for a moment, Harry heard it again, definite scuffing of boots.

Harry gripped the Carbine tight and slowly inched the door open just enough to get a glimpse.

There, facing away from him, in the hallway was a man, stamping out a cigarette butt on the floor. He was about five foot-ten, wearing a black leather jacket and trousers, his head was facing away from Harry and his hair was cropped close to his scalp. In his hand he held a small cold war era pistol.

_'Bingo.'_ Harry thought to himself, slinging the Carbine quietly and creeping closer to the man. A moment later Harry drove a fist into the man's kidney, driving him to the floor and making him drop the gun in surprise.

_'Amateur. '_

Within seconds Harry had his arms around the man's throat.

Now, the rear naked choke comes in multiple variations but one of the most popular is the figure of four. This is done by sliding your left arm under and around an opponent's jaw and then grasping your right bicep, your right arm is then placed behind the opponent's neck and the right hand is placed firmly on the back of the opponent's head. After this, simply applying light pressure and pulling your shoulders back will compress the carotid artery and the jugular vein. This leads to unconsciousness and, eventually, death with minimal effort. When done fast enough, and with the element of surprise, realistic chances of defending against it are quite low, especially if your attacker is well trained.

The man went down silently and was unconscious within seconds.

Harry grasped him under the shoulders and dragged him into the stair well. If Harry couldn't find the girl then he'd be able to come back and question mook number one.

Closing the door to the stairwell behind him Harry quietly spoke.

"Contact down, no sign of the girl." He said, unslinging the Carbine and moving quietly down the hall.

"Understood agent." James' voice said over the line.

Harry continued through the building, searching the rooms as he went. Three minutes later he found what he was looking for.

Just around the corner from him stood two men, obviously guarding the door that stood between them. If Harry were a betting man, he'd put good money on the chance that the girl was behind that door.

"Contact front, possible HVT." Harry whispered, as quiet as he could.

"Understood agent, make it fast." James said.

Harry nodded to himself, took a deep breath, and shouldered the Carbine, flipping the safety off, before spinning around the corner.

Harry acquired the first man in his sights and the details flashed through his mind as he moved to pull the trigger.

He was in his early twenties; hair cropped short, wearing jeans and a jacket.

A tight group of three 5.56mm rounds left the muzzle of Harry's Carbine at eight hundred and sixty-six metres per second, impacting the unfortunate kidnapper's chest with one-thousand one-hundred and ten pounds of force per foot. The man went down hard.

Harry shifted his aim to the second man. He was in his late twenties with a thuggish look about him, wearing a tacky athletics jacket and jeans. The only remarkable feature of the man was the fact that he was slowly bringing a Russian Makarov PM to bear on Harry. those seemed to be popular with these guys.

Harry squeezed the trigger again another three times and the second man caught a tight three round grouping to the top of his chest, tearing through his jacket. He too hit the floor.

The engagement with the two abductors lasted all of four and a half seconds.

Harry sprinted for the door five metres away that the two men had been guarding. Time was now of the essence. The other kidnappers would have heard the shooting without a doubt and it was now a race against time to eliminate them before they got angsty and decided to put a round through the Minister's daughter. That would be bad, very bad. Not only would an innocent young woman lose her life, but Harry would never hear the end of it either.

He hit the door with a running kick, smacking the door wide open, and continued through into the room.

It was a large square room, with concrete floors and bare brick walls much like the rest of the building. Before Harry stood two armed men, then the Ministers daughter tied to a chair and behind that, the last man, Aidan Byrne.

Harry acquired his first target, the man closest to him; he was in his thirties with dark brown hair. Harry fired off two shots from his Carbine, the first hit the man's clavicle the second snapped his head back, the man went down.

Quickly switching targets, Harry fired off two more rounds at the second man. The first went wide and dug into the brick wall, the second tore through the man's throat, he went down.

Just as Harry set about bringing the Carbine onto Byrne he felt something akin to a truck hit him and he was knocked flat on his arse. He'd been shot and the bullet was flattened against his ballistic vest.

Harry let out a groan, definitely a broken rib or two, and tried to stand up.

_'Fuck me that tickled.' _His pain filled mind managed to think.

"Not another move you little bastard, or the girlie takes one in the Jaw." A rough voice said, Byrne obviously.

Harry looked up and, sure enough, Byrne had the barrel of his pistol against the underside of the Minister's Daughter's Jaw.

Harry let out another groan, this one of frustration rather than pain.

"Now, who are you?" Byrne growled, threateningly pressing the gun barrel into the young woman's jaw. She let out a small whimper.

Harry glared at him from his semi-kneeling position, the Carbine was within easy reaching distance but with the twitchy bastard pressing a gun against the Minister's Harry didn't want to risk it.

"Harry Potter, I'm a... Friend of the Minister." Harry said with a grunt as he pulled the flattened round from his vest.

_'Big bugger, that one.' _He thought idly.

"A fucking Limey!" Byrne shouted angrily.

_'Here we go, start waving that big bloody revolver around you twat.' _Harry thought quickly.

"Oh fuck off." Harry said dismissively, trying to make Byrne flip his top. "I've read your file; you've never even been to Ireland. You're about as Irish as my Audi."

Byrne went red in the face and grabbed a handful of the young woman's hair. "Shut your filthy mouth you English prick! I swear I'll blow you away and still get what I want from this bitch!" He shouted, wrenching the woman's head to the side. She let out a small scream.

Harry grimaced on the inside but outwardly just cocked his head to the side with a look of indifference. "Heh, you might be Irish after all, you often get your jollies from smacking around women?" Harry asked.

Byrne's nostrils flared and he pointed the revolver straight at Harry. "I will fucking end you." He growled.

Harry smirked and slowly stood up, holding his side slightly. "C'mon you pus, I thought you said you were Irish? You just gonna shoot me? Where's that fightin' Irish spirit you freckled little feckers keep going on about." Harry snorted. "Guess that long diet of potatoes has softened you up, eh?" Harry let out a small laugh.

Byrne let out an angry shout and threw the revolver to the side, advancing on Harry. "I'm going to enjoy this, you little shit." He growled.

_'Bloody idiot.' _Harry thought to himself as he raised his fists.

Byrne let loose a savage right hook, heading straight for Harry's jaw. Rookie mistake. Harry blocked the punch at the last second and stepped into Byrne, Nailing him with a vicious liver shot as he went.

Byrne lurched forward with a pained shout and smashed his forehead into Harry's nose, knocking him back.

Harry shook his head and blinked his eyes before he rushed Byrne, Spear tackling him to the floor. The next minute and a bit was full of biting, scratching, and scrambling for a good hold between the two men as they continuously wrestled for a better position.

Harry eventually came out on top, bleeding from his cheek and sporting the beginnings of a nice Shiner.

He shot forward, pressing his forearm against Byrne's trachea, trying to end it.

Byrne struggled and tossed and eventually got his foot against Harry's hip. With a powerful kick Harry fell back, smacking his head painfuly on the floor.

Byrne stumbled to his feet and moved towards the gun as Harry scrambled to his feet, vision spinning.

Just as Byrne bent to pick up the revolver, Harry grabbed him by the head. Byrne's life ended with a sickening crack as Harry pushed Byrne's head towards his shoulder and then savagely twisted his jaw back towards Harry's chest, snapping his neck.

Byrne fell to the floor with a flop and Harry took a step back with a ragged breath.

Blood was running down his face from his nose, a cut on his cheek bone, and a scrape on his forehead. His breathing was heavy and his ribs were on fire.

_'I don't care what anybody says, I'm having a bloody huge glass of Oban after this.' _Harry thought to himself as he picked up Byrne's revolver.

"No wonder it bloody hurt." Harry said to himself, looking over the gun. "It's a bloody Ruger Redhawk." Harry looked down at Byrne's body. "You should'a just shot me in the face mate, would of worked out a shit load better for you." He said, slipping the revolver into his belt.

The Minister's daughter was still tied to the chair, whimpering quietly as tears ran down her face.

Harry moved towards her, trying in vain to wipe some of the blood from his face.

"You alright love?" He asked, moving to untie her.

"W-who are you?" She tremblingly asked.

"Like I said." Harry began, working the ropes tieing her to the chair loose. "I'm a friend of your dad's, well not really - I work for him, in a roundabout way."

_'Buggers actually did a good job with the ropes.' _Harry thought angrily as he struggled with the ropes. After a moment or so they came free.

"HVT secure, contacts down." Harry said, earning a strange look from the Minister's daughter.

"Who are yo-" Harry interrupted her with a raised hand.

"Understood agent. Proceed to the embassy, the staff there will see her home. C will be pleased." James' voice sounded across the line.

Harry snorted as he picked up the Carbine from the floor. "C won't be pleased, he'll be marginally less pissed off." Harry replied, waving the Minister's daughter over.

"I'm taking you to the embassy, they'll make sure you get home alright. C'mon." Harry said, moving towards the door, Charlotte Straw in tow.

Almost as soon as Harry turned the corner he heard a shout and for the second time that day, he took a bullet to the vest. The first man by the stair well seemed to have woken up and come looking for his mates.

Harry span back round the corner, forcing the young woman behind him, with a growl as he pulled the Ruger Redhawk from his belt. He checked the cylinder and made sure the safety was off before he took a deep breath.

Crouching low, Harry shot round the corner and let off three rounds. All three impacted mook number one in the chest and tore through his torso, he hit the floor hard.

Harry let out a low groan and looked down at the round in his vest. The 9x18mm round fired from a Russian PM had about a third of the impact force of the 44. Magnum fired from the Ruger that had hit him earlier, but it still hurt like hell.

Harry started off towards the car once more, the Minister's daughter now clinging to his arm.

_'Fuck it, I'm drinking the whole damn bottle of Oban...'_

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**A/N: **Well, here you go. chapter 8 is here. Firstly I would like to thank _All _The people who reviewed, the response to the last chapter was simply overwhelming, I'm humbled. The reviewers pointed out some important things and I'm thankful for that, I will now try to add more detail to the chapters. this story is now my second most followed and favourited fic :D Thanks guys, keep up the great reviewing. as always, tell me what you liked. what you didn't like, and what you thought. Read and Review.


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